


Forgive Me

by MystyVander



Series: Emerald Roses [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Drama, Drarry, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Slash, Smut, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystyVander/pseuds/MystyVander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sequel to Emerald Roses) What will Harry do when faced with the decision to come out with Draco or leave him? How can he put his life back together when he makes the entirely wrong decision?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters/this universe. 
> 
> I highly suggest you read the first work in this series 'Emerald Roses' before this one. Otherwise, please enjoy. 
> 
> A million thanks to my lovely beta, Arithmancy Master. You are wonderful, as always.

A small whimper drew his attention from beyond the door left slightly ajar. Pushing it open gently and walking on his toes, as quiet as one could, Harry snuck his way into the darkened bedroom where the only source of light was a small, luminescent ball resting on top of a dresser. Shadows of dragon toys danced about the yellow walls as Harry lowered himself to his knees and placed his hand on Teddy Lupin's back. He massaged him soothingly, humming lowly, as another whimper sounded from the boy.

Despite the dark, and Harry's less than average eyesight, he could make out the odd colour of Teddy's hair. What was interesting about a metamorphmagus who often had nightmares was that he generally, without knowledge, projected who he was dreaming about in his physical appearance. His hair was bright pink which was not uncommon to be seen in the middle of the night.

"Sh, Teddy," Harry whispered.

The thirteen year old boy made a small noise of acknowledgement before rolling from his stomach to his side. Harry prodded him gently awake. The more he stirred the more his hair returned to its natural brown, shaggy state. Wandlessly, Harry gestured at the ball of light upon the dresser and it softly brightened even more. "It's time to get ready," he persisted.

The whimpers gone and instead left with a groan, Teddy grabbed a hold of his pillow and covered his head with it. "S'too early," he mumbled.

"Yes, well, you were the one who wanted to leave your shopping till literally the last day. If we don't go now you won't have any books to bring to school," Harry reasoned, his voice hardening slightly now as he rose.

"You could owl them to me," Teddy returned, his voice slightly muffled.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. 'Teenage boys,' he thought to himself. "You have as much of a chance of that happening as you do asking Victoire Weasley to the Yule Ball this year," he teased.

In a quick motion, Teddy's pillow was suddenly flying at Harry who caught it. Even after all these years, he still had the reflexes of a Seeker. "Come on, then, we haven't all morning."

Leaving Teddy to rise on his own, brightening the orb of light as he went, Harry padded down from his guest room to the bathroom where James was sleepily brushing his teeth. Catching his Dad looking at him from the doorway smiling softly, James shot him a small scowl. "Is nobody a morning person in this house?"

James spat into the sink from his stepping stool and rinsed his toothbrush. " _You_ don't like mornings either, Dad," he accused, jumping off the stool as he did.

As true as that was, Harry always enjoyed waking up early on this particular day. "I don't think so James," he stopped his son from leaving the bathroom, gesturing to his head.

"But Dad, it just gets messy again! What's the point of brushing it?" James whined.

Harry laughed. James reminded him so much of himself. "Either you can do it or I can," he reasoned.

Petulantly, James turned back and grabbed his brush from the bathroom drawer. With a pout he started running it through his unruly hair that was now the length of his shoulders. Being only eight, his mother Ginny desperately had attempted to cut it multiple times but James would not have any of it. True to Potter fashion, his hair would regrow overnight. He always boasted to his parents and Rose Weasley (his best friend and cousin) that soon he would have hair as long as his Uncle Bill's.

Checking in on Teddy to make sure he really was getting ready, to which he responded, "Piss off, I'm up!", which was answered with the most disapproving of looks and a muttered mention of his Nana Andromeda, Harry went off into the kitchen to make breakfast.

The sun had yet to even make an appearance, however, Harry was excited. September First had to be one of his favourite days of the year; especially since Andromeda Tonks always allowed him to be the one to see Teddy off on the Hogwarts Express. Perched on the open window just above his kitchen sink was his companion, hooting an early greeting at him. "Pinna," Harry greeted affectionately, summoning some of her owl treats as he held out his hand to her.

Pinna nipped them from his palm and cooed as much as an owl can as Harry ran his hand through her feathers gently; she nuzzled into the touch. Nobody could ever replace the bond Harry had with Hedwig, however, he loved Pinna just the same. "Any mail, girl?" he asked, but the owl merely hooted. Clearly there was no news from the evening before; not that Harry expected any. The only mail he ever received would be from Ron and Hermione which was always delivered by Pigwidgeon, not Pinna, or from the Ministry if something dire occurred or a meeting had been placed posthaste in his department.

Before the boys were even finished getting ready – they were always slow moving in the morning but Harry had never met a boy their ages that was not – he had two breakfast sandwiches prepared for them and a small breakfast shoved down himself. They really did not have the time to spare as somehow Teddy had gone all summer holidays without retrieving his school things in any capacity. They had to be at King's Cross by eleven at the latest to catch the Hogwarts Express meaning they would have to do all of his shopping within a mere hour and a half.

It was a quiet trip to the Leaky Cauldron where Harry parked his barely used car outside of the establishment. He greeted the bartender, Tom, in a quick hurry before making his way off through the back to the entrance of Diagon Alley. The wonderment of the market still awed James unlike Teddy who, in keeping with his rebellious reputation, looked displeased during the whole shopping experience. James stayed close to Harry the entire time, basically hanging off the hem of his plain robes. Ignoring the onlookers (who were mostly children as most of the adult population of the wizarding world was thankfully accustomed to Harry's presence now), they shopped in a hurry. Flourish and Blotts already had Teddy's books set aside, requested by Harry late the previous evening, and the only purchasing that took any time would be the fitting of new robes. Teddy had grown at least two or three inches in a year.

James was off in the back of Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions alongside Teddy as Harry waited with Teddy's school things in tow by the door in a seating area. They were making splendid time, much to Harry's surprise, as they still had two hours to make it onto the train and this would be their final stop.

"Do you remember when we met here?" a silken voice startled Harry who had not heard the door bells chime as it opened.

"I'll be up in a few moments, dear!" came Madame Malkin's call from the back room. "Mr. Potter, put that down!" she could be heard snapping afterwards.

Harry blushed and stood to greet Draco, he bit his lower-lip and awkwardly held out his hand to be shook. Draco raised an ever so elegant eyebrow at the gesture and ignored it, moving to embrace Harry instead. His arms wrapped about Harry's waist, his chest pressed against his own, his fading platinum hair tickled Harry's cheek as his warm breath hit his ear. "Now, is that any way to say hullo?"

A shiver sent itself through Harry who quickly embraced Draco in return before separating them both. "Sorry, you know how it is," Harry muttered, gesturing to the window where those walking by thankfully had not noticed the two embracing.

Draco sighed, cocking his hip slightly as he crossed his arms. "Unfortunately yes, I do," he drawled, clearly displeased.

Ever since their eventful reuniting back in February of this year, they had been seeing one another regularly. However, only when James was not around and they would only meet in Muggle areas of London or at one another's homes. Draco had voiced his opinion on multiple occasions that their relationship should no longer be kept secret but Harry was too nervous about how his son would react to the knowledge of them.

"What are you doing here?" Harry questioned, shoving his hands into his pocket and looking nervously at the door to the back room. In all their time together, they had yet to meet in public when James was with Harry. He was unsure of how to explain his relation with this man to his eight year old son.

"Scorpius and I required new robes for the Ministry Ball next week," Draco informed, "As do you."

Harry pulled a strained face, "I do not. What's wrong with my old robes?"

"Potter, are you referring to the robes that are two sizes too small and that ghastly, faded, black that make you look like Snape's offspring?" Draco teased, his mouth pulling into a smirk at Harry's blush.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry muttered. "It's not like you have to be seen with me anyway."

Draco leaned in slightly, his face too close to Harry's as they breathed in each other's air briefly. Harry swallowed. 'Merlin, how come I always want him whenever I see him?' he inwardly moaned. "No, but I need  _something_ good to look at while I am there. I have them selected for you already, you need only get them fitted."

"Of course you do," Harry mumbled, this did not surprise him in the least. Even on their Muggle dates, Draco often slyly suggested what Harry was to wear. On their second date, Draco literally bought, picked out, and sent Harry his clothes.

A small cough alerted them from the back area of the shop. Teddy was standing with his hands shoved deep into his tattered jean pockets. His messy hair turned a sudden jet black colour with a hint of streaked red. "For school spirit," he grumbled. He looked like such a miserable thirteen year old but Harry knew better; it was a phase, as most teenagers go through, and the moment Teddy was around his friends or Victoire his demeanor altered completely.

At Teddy's presence, Harry distanced himself as much as possible from Draco. "Er, you know Dra – I mean, Mr. Malfoy, right, Teddy?"

Teddy appeared absolutely nonchalant as he regarded his Godfather and the slightly taller, impeccably dressed man in question. "He is my cousin, you know."

"Right, well, yeah I just…" Harry stopped himself as he heard Draco chuckle lowly and blushed. "Shut up," he whispered at him.

James finally emerged from the back room with a frazzled looking Madame Malkin dragging him by the sleeve of his robes. "Mr. Potter, dare I say your son is taking after that devil of an Uncle of his," she tutted disapprovingly, releasing him to his father.

Harry need not ask which Uncle she was referring to; that much was a given, but he did have to try to supress his bemused smirk. "What was it this time, James? Don't tell me, dungbombs?"

"Dungbombs are  _so_ stupid. I was only testing out Uncle George's new Tickling Ticking Spiders!"

"Sorry about him, Madame Malkin, you know how boys can be. I hope he didn't damage anything?" Harry queried.

Madame Malkin's tight frown slowly upturned into a soft smile. "Not at all, Mr. Potter, I would just hate to be the next shop in Diagon Alley to ban Weasley products from my store. I do adore their Pigmy Puffs."

"I'll make sure to remember that," Harry smiled sweetly causing the shop owner's cheeks to tint. "I'll handle you later," he warned his son, casting a wandless and wordless tempus as he did. They were losing precious time to get to crowded King's Cross.

"Always so impressive, Potter," Draco drawled, referencing the wandless magic.

Harry had to bite back the red creeping up his neck and ignored Draco's commentary. "Come on, boys, if you miss the train your Nana will feed me to the grindylows."

Ushering out the boys, after paying Madame Malkin, Harry turned to Draco once he was certain his son was not paying any attention as he stepped onto the street alongside Teddy. "Are we still on for tonight?"

"Ah, that depends. Are you sure you wish to be seen with me?" Draco returned. Though he didn't sound it, Harry knew he was peeved. Every time they met by chance in public around other wizards Draco would end up in a foul mood. He was known to even throw fits for days at a time over it.

"I'll Floo over around seven," he said, ignoring the rhetorical question.

The journey to King's Cross was filled with James asking Teddy to alter his appearance; which he only did a few times before turning his attention out the window. Harry knew James was nearly as excited as he was to see Teddy off onto the Hogwarts Express; he couldn't wait to join him at Hogwarts and Harry couldn't believe it would only be three years until he did.

Once they ended up on Platform Nine and Three Quarters with half an hour to spare (which Harry congratulated himself for that feat), James spotted the unmistakeable long red-hair in the distance. Taking off at a run, ignoring his father's call to be careful, James tackled his Uncle Bill unceremoniously amidst the crowd.

"James isn't going to care," Teddy said suddenly from Harry's side.

"Hm?"

"About Malfoy. He's already used to his mum having a different husband, he's not going to care that you're dating Malfoy," Teddy elaborated.

Harry turned to look at him, shocked, but Teddy was looking out across the crowd, his blue eyes squinting in hopes to find a very particular Weasley. "How did you – I mean, we're not…"

"Hey, I don't care and neither will he. But if you don't want him to know, you might want to stop being so obvious whenever you see him," he advised.

As Bill and Fleur Weasley approached Harry, Victoire made herself visible. Teddy immediately straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, readjusting his jumper. Harry raised an eyebrow bemusedly, "You're one to talk," he mumbled.

Teddy turned a vibrant shade of red that nearly matched the Weasleys' hair. "Bill, how've you been?" Harry greeted, shaking his hand and turning to Fleur who reluctantly held out her own – she never was one for being touched by anyone other than Bill. "Fleur, looking lovely."

"Victoire, say salut to Mr. Potter," Fleur directed her daughter, who inclined her head. Unlike most Weasleys, she was a shy, dainty girl who always appeared slightly flustered.

"Dad, Bill said I could go over to the cottage this weekend! Can I, can I?" James asked his father excitedly.

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You have to ask your mother that, James."

Victoire and Teddy said their awkward hellos, always averting their gaze whenever their eyes met, before bidding their parents and godparent goodbye. After catching up briefly with the Weasleys as they watched and waved the Hogwarts Express farewell, Harry led James back out to the car. "We have to step into the office for a little while," he reminded James.

"Oh, can I visit Aunt Hermione?"

"Maybe." James knew better than to ask about visiting Uncle Ron; if he was in the office, he would most likely visit them of his own accord. It was a Thursday afternoon and by the time they arrived at the Ministry it was absolutely buzzing with business.

James attached a visitors badge to his robe, although nearly every employee could spot the famous Harry Potter lookalike a mile away, and followed his father up to his office. "You remember the rules?" Harry questioned his son as he sat down at his large oak desk and reached into his inbox of files.

"Yeah, no Weasley products allowed," James grumbled dejectedly and took a seat in one of the chairs only after grabbing a handful of licorice whips from the bowl of them on Harry's desk.

His office, constructed with three glass walls, looked out onto the rest of the Magical Law Enforcement office. Ron must have spotted Harry because he was soon making his way into the office, levitating an envelope in front of him with a sour look on his face. Without knocking, he opened the door and seemed not to notice James sitting cross-legged in the chair with its back to Ron. "You better tell your boy-"

"Uncle Ron!" Harry cut him off very suddenly, gesturing at the occupied seat.

Ron flushed and corrected himself. "Tell  _Donovan_  to quit putting every telegram he sends you in a biting envelope," he finished, dropping the envelope onto the desk.

"Biting envelope?" James repeated curiously, reaching out onto Harry's desk for said envelope only to have his father pick it up faster than he could. "Like a Howler?"

"Wotcher, James," Ron smirked at his nephew. "Not like a Howler," he explained, "When somebody sends a letter to a very specific person, the envelope will bite anybody else who touches it."

James frowned at the envelope Harry was tearing open. Ron observed his best friend's sudden look of defeat and clapped his nephew on the back. "James, why don't you go and see what your Aunt 'Mione is doing? I heard she was having some goblins in for another testimony."

Excited by the prospect, as he usually was, to interact with another creature, James asked his dad's permission before taking off out of his office and towards the elevators. Having spent more than enough time at the Ministry, James knew his way around the place by himself at this point. Ron took James' vacated seat and before he could even ask what was wrong, as Harry knew he was going to, he tossed him the telegram that had been concealed in the envelope. "Bring wine and if you are lucky I will let you in tonight, Potter, my Floo is closed," Ron read aloud, sighing and tossing the parchment back onto Harry's desk. "What did you do this time?" Even at this point Ron knew that if Draco was requesting Harry bring wine, he was pissed.

"Same as always. He just doesn't know what it's like, you know? I can't just tell James I'm seeing Draco Malfoy of all people and if the Prophet ever finds out, well, you know exactly what is going to happen and what people are going to say. I don't want James to have to deal with that," Harry expounded.

Ron bit off a piece of a licorice whip, chewing for a moment before sighing. "I don't think you give little Prongster enough credit, mate," Ron said earnestly, Harry's lips twitching at the nickname. "But doesn't Malfoy know what it's like? He's got Scorpio-"

"Scorpius," Harry quickly corrected.

"Right, Scorpius," Ron waved it off uncaringly, "And he is the same age as James."

"Yeah, but that poor kid has seen his mother go through four men already and he's only eight! I don't want to do that to James," he admitted.

Ron leaned forward in his chair, eyeing his friend levelly. "It's been what, six, seven months? I mean, I can see why Malfoy's getting a little ticked, mate."

Harry blinked, it was odd to hear Ron agreeing with the ex-Slytherin in any form. "I'm just not ready; what if something happened? How can I even explain it all to James?"

"Listen, he knows you're interested in both sides of the fence, as much as an eight year-old can understand that, and you just have to be honest with him."

As much as he did not wish to admit it, he knew his friend was right. Harry had been avoiding making his and Draco's relationship public for a long time and for a variety of reasons. The rest of the day he had the thought of coming out weighing down on his shoulders and he realized that he still could not publicly commit to Draco. Deciding to retrieve the most expensive red wine he possibly could from the shop after Flooing James over to his mother's, he arrived at Draco's front door only ten minutes late – which for Harry was pretty good timing.

When Draco opened the door, he immediately stepped outside and quickly shut it, forcing Harry to take a step back from his front porch. 'Definitely still peeved,' Harry concluded at once, despite Draco showing absolutely no sign of emotion. "Mm, you looked so beautiful today at Madame Malkin's, you have no idea how much I wanted to do this," Harry hummed in hopes of getting back into his boyfriend's good graces as he craned his neck slightly upwards to capture his lips.

Draco, however, was not having any of it and turned his cheek. "We are going out," he ordered sharply, stepping around Harry and towards the pavement before his townhouse.

"Going out? But, I brought you your wine," Harry gestured to the bagged bottle in his hand.

"And I said if you were lucky I would consider allowing you inside my home," Draco seethed. He was dressed in Muggle attire so Harry knew at once where he was headed. Going to his car and depositing the wine into his boot, Harry hurried after Draco, he did not live too far from his favourite little coffee shop.

"Draco, c'mon," Harry began pleadingly as he caught up to him. "I didn't have time this morning to exactly spring our relationship onto my son," he tried to reason.

Draco tutted. "Yes, and you never have time, right Potter?" he accused. The sharpness in his tone told Harry he had dug himself rather deep this time, perhaps the shovel was even broken.

"You just don't get it," Harry muttered beneath his breath, much to his own stupidity as he was instantly regretting having said anything at all. 'I really should just keep quiet whenever he is in these moods,' he chastised himself.

"Of course I do not get it, it is not like I also have a son," Draco snapped.

"Scorpius is a lot less emotional than James; he can handle-" 'Just shut up! Why do I keep talking?' Harry inwardly yelled.

"Cannot handle what? His father finally having a relationship, finally being happy, after seven bloody years? He seems perfectly content with his mother's arrangement – he has a half-sister for Salazar's sake!" Draco indicted, calling Harry on his bluff. That much was true, they both knew it, that James would most likely be comfortable knowing of his father's relationship. "Or is it something else you think James would not be able to handle? We both know he has dealt with his fair share of Prophet vultures, so it is not that…" his voice was turning almost venomous at this point, he must have been festering over this issue all day. "Could it be you are ashamed, Potter? Ashamed to admit to your son you are seeing a Death Eater?"

Harry groaned, he wished there was something he could currently smack his head off of. He really had to remember to remain quiet while Draco was experiencing one of his moods. "You know it's not that, I didn't raise my son to be prejudiced."

"Then what, Potter? What else – oh, I see," Draco clipped, his mouth tightening into a thin line. They were rounding on the café now, the usual younger crowd and smoke-filled shop pounding with the music from that evening's band. Without addressing what he meant by 'I see' and Harry knowing better than to ask, they entered the café.

Mar, the owner and good friend of Draco's, greeted them and hurried to bring about their usual drinks. "Need me to make that latte as Irish as I can, Dray?"

Draco's eyes narrowed at the nickname, "No thank you Mort-"

Nigel, much to his fiance's gratitude, interrupted the sputtering of the nickname Harry had yet to hear over the course of seven months. "Sweetie, Clara's having a bit of a tussle in the back, love," he informed her. "Boys, cheers," he raised his beer to them before directing Marina to the kitchen who was grumbling something about teenaged employees.

"Do you want to – okay, yup, you lead the way then," Harry said to himself as he followed Draco who stiffly went to sit at their usual table.

They sat in subdued silence for quite some time, Harry tried to distract himself from Draco's growing moodiness as he listened to the band – The Drysdale Dames, if he could recall correctly – but his eyes kept falling back on his lover. Even when he was angry, Harry still found him to be the most gorgeous man he had ever laid eyes on. Even with his lips drawn into a scowl, Draco looked like he absolutely had to have some Veela blood in him. There could be no other explanation for how attractive Harry, and everybody else around him, always found the man. Even having a relatively inactive job, Draco had remained very fit over the years – slimmer than Harry who was muscled from the pick-up Quidditch matches and the semi-monthly auror training he participated in.

"So, I was at the office today and Ron requested you stopped sending him biting envelopes. You could've just sent the owl to me," Harry said loudly over the music and voices of the café, hoping the change in conversation would elicit something more than disdain from Draco.

"I knew you were still at King's Cross when I sent it," Draco returned, his grey eyes were drilling into Harry as he spoke.

Unlike others when they were mad, Draco had this unnerving talent of sculpting his face into an emotionless, unblinking portrait. It unnerved Harry, making him squirm in his seat. "Draco," he exhaled, "Stop this. You know how much I hate it when you're upset."

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, and it's all about the great Boy Who Lived, isn't it?" he snapped, pushing up from his chair and storming off into the bathroom.

"No, Draco, you know – bugger," Harry swore, getting up to follow him. The longer he left Draco to himself, the greater the chance of him apparating home was. Just before the bend of the café in the back beside the counter, Nigel stopped him.

"He looked pretty pissed, mate, what didya do this time?" Nigel asked in his cockney accent.

"It's not really important," Harry tried to push past him.

"Mar always likes her space when she's raggin'," he counselled. "It's not like he's gonna jump out the window and take off on yah."

Harry raised his eyebrows, feeling rather impatient at the moment. "Remember a few months back when he did just that?" he supplied for Nigel's ever failing memory.

Nigel's eyes went wide and he grinned, "Bloody hell, I'd forgotten about that. Mar's gotta put some locks on 'em windows."

Walking passed him now, Harry thought idly to himself how locks wouldn't stop Draco from apparating home as he had before. Very rarely did the two of them spat with one another in any serious form over the past seven months but when they did it was always concerning the secrecy of their relationship.

When he came to the door of one of the two private bathrooms, Harry rapped on it. "Piss off," came Draco's curt response.

"Draco, just hear me out," Harry pleaded even though he had no idea what exactly he was going to say to meander his way through Draco's impossible moods. Harry jiggled the door handle to find it was locked, he sighed as he pressed his forehead against the door.

"It's locked and you can't draw your wand in-"

Harry waved his hand over the doorknob, unlocking it and pushing his way inside. "Dammit," Draco swore. He was leaning over the sink, his hands gripping the porcelain, and his sleeves rolled up. Resolutely, Harry came up behind him and snaked his arms about his waist. He pressed his front into Draco, resting his head on his shoulder with a little difficulty considering how Draco was an inch taller than himself. At the embrace Draco tensed but did not move, he shivered, however, as Harry's left hand ran down his bare arm, his fingers trailing the faded Dark Mark.

"This," he breathed, "Would never stop me from telling people how much I care about you. I love this," he whispered truthfully. Dragging up eyes up from the tap, Draco looked at their reflection in the mirror, his eyes asking the silent question. "It always reminds me where you came from. I like that. It reminds me that in spite of everything, I still love being with you."

Reaching across himself, Draco caught Harry by the wrist and spun himself around so that they were face-to-face and he was looking down at his partner, still clearly unhappy. He was leaning up against the sink now, pursing his lips. "I understand why you wish to keep our relation secret, Potter."

Harry relaxed, placing his hands on either side of Draco's as he refused to give him space – the closer he stayed, he knew the more likely Draco would be to give into his lame apology. "Thanks, I'm glad you understand. I just need more time," he insisted.

"Yes, I know  _exactly_  why…you do not want to do what Astoria does to Scorpius," Draco provided.

"Exactly!" Harry agreed but at the sudden narrowing of Draco's eyes he knew he was now in deeper than before. "Fuck, Draco, it's not like that! It's just – it's you and me, it wasn't supposed to work in the first place! I don't want to get James attached to anybody and then have them leave."

"I have no intention of leaving, Potter," he spat, "If that is how you feel, however, be my guest," he gestured at the door.

Harry exasperatedly exhaled. "You know that's not what I mean."

Draco remained masked, his eyes resting on Harry again, burrowing into him. If he didn't know any better, Harry would assume he was performing Legilimency on him. "If you are so certain that we will not remain together, it makes sense why you are still here. Oh yes, so many men have been just like you, Potter, sticking around hoping to get another good lay."

At the insinuation, anger bubbled in Harry's chest, he growled and pushed off from the sink. Draco appeared pleased with himself, he always aimed to enrage Harry when they fought; it made him feel as if he had bested him as he remained calm. "You fucking know I wouldn't do that!"

"Do I? Why would you not? We are obviously not going to last much longer otherwise. I mean, what kind of future is there for a Death Eater and the precious golden boy?"

"Why would I not?" Harry repeated, " _Why would I not_? Because I love you, goddammit!" he yelled. Ringing silence followed the confession; it had never been spoken before then. Harry was breathing hard now, raggedly, his ears turning pink at his words. "I love you, Draco," he reiterated softly.

If Draco was surprised or in any way sentimentalized by the confession, he did not show it. "I am in love with you and that scares me more than anything. I didn't think…after Ginny, I didn't think I could ever love somebody – I thought she was the one for me and that wasn't true and now…now I'm in love with you and it scares me," he confessed.

"Prove it," Draco said levelly.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Prove it. Come on, Potter, you can hardly ever prove your word anymore, show me you can at least prove that."

At the insult, Harry quickly advanced. He didn't even have to look at the door nor gesture at it to lock it. "I will give you anything, Draco. If you want me to come into the public with you, fine. Fine. Just as long as I can bloody have you in every fucking way I can, I will do it."

Draco's lips drew into a thin, tight line, the corners of them curling into an impish smirk. "Prove it," he repeated, his voice lower than before.

The tone was recognizable to Harry who couldn't help but breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Every time Draco was forgiving Harry, he did it in such a way that always ended with at least one of them being thoroughly satisfied. "Oh, I'll prove it to you," Harry muttered, advancing on his lover.

Harry leaned up against Draco again but this time he placed his hands on his hips and ground into him. The friction finally elicited a warm reaction from Draco as he moaned gently into Harry's hair, his own hands twisting on the edge of the porcelain. "It will take a lot of convincing," Draco added, causing Harry to grin up at him as his hands worked at the belt of Draco's slacks.

"I was hoping it would," he purred and instead of kissing his lips Harry dove into Draco's neck, sucking on the patch of skin just behind his ear – where he knew he was most sensitive.

Draco immediately moved his hands onto Harry at the feeling, letting out a hiss as Harry sucked harder. Within a few minutes Harry had worked his way down, unbuttoned Draco's shirt and lingered for a moment at the large white mark on his chest. Nearly every time Harry saw him shirtless he paused there, frowning at the imperfection of his pale skin. "This is hardly convincing to me," Draco drawled, distracting him from the scar from the sectumsempra curse sent at him all those years ago.

Resuming his work, Harry used his mouth and hands all the way down Draco's body, touching and teasing the most sensitive parts of him, spending a fair amount of time on the man's nipples. On his knees, Harry released Draco's hardening cock from his trousers. The blond man sighed and let his head fall backwards, his eyes closed as his face was turned towards the ceiling with one hand bracing himself and the other sitting on the back of his lover's head.

With a tight grip, Harry held onto the base of Draco's cock as his other hand found and cupped his bollocks, massaging them gently. Harry nearly covered his dick with his mouth but paused in thought and instead he flicked out his tongue, barely touching the tip of Draco's penis.

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing, but said nothing. Until Harry did it again. And again. The fifth time Harry's wet, warm tongue came into contact with his cock at the same time as his hand gave a very slight pump at the base of it, Draco looked hungrily down at him. "Tell me you want me," Harry said, only to blow out hot air afterwards, causing Draco's cock to twitch.

"You know I do, Potter. Hurry up or else I will fuck you into the wall," Draco snarled heatedly.

Harry chuckled, Draco was always so vocal and demanding when it came to sex and it never ceased to arouse and amuse him. "I won't let you this time," and they were both well aware that despite Harry often letting Draco take control, he was still the stronger of the two. "Tell me you want me," he repeated, squeezing Draco's cock at the same time and giving it one long, slow pump.

Clenching his jaw, Draco wound his fingers through Harry's hair hard enough to make the brunet wince. "I want you to suck my cock, Potter.  _Harry_ ," he added huskily.

Obligingly, Harry lowered his lips to Draco's head and took all of it into his mouth. He twirled his tongue around the tip, sucked as hard as he could, and came off again. Draco's breathing was becoming sharper by the moment as Harry rolled back on his ankles slightly to take a good, long look at his boyfriend. "You are so fucking hot," he breathed.

"Because you make me," Draco returned, his hip muscles tensing as he jerked forward in hopes to have Harry engulf the length of him again.

Knowing that if he waited much longer Draco would assuredly attempt to overcome him and fuck him into the wall (it was certainly something he had done before, though not in this particular bathroom surprisingly enough), Harry took as much as he could of Draco's cock into his mouth. Relaxing at last, Draco's grip on Harry's hair loosened as he looked down his body to watch Harry work his hand and mouth expertly around his cock.

A few minutes into the apology, a loud knocking came at the door. "Whoever is in there, you've been in there long enough!" came Mar's voice booming through the door.

Harry mumbled something and whatever it was became the most beautiful noise Draco had ever heard and he moaned aloud, unable to stop himself. The way Harry had actually attempted to speak while his mouth was full of Draco's cock – it was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. "Draco! Is that you – you mother fucking-"

With a wave of Harry's hand, Mar's voice suddenly became silent and they no longer heard any of the commotion from the café nor the band. Draco was, once again, thankful for Harry's wandless magic talents – they certainly came in handy more often than not. Picking up his pace, Harry's jaw must have been growing tired because he was working vigorously now, not to Draco's displeasure.

Aware that he could make all the noise he wanted to, Draco did just that as he began to buck his hips into Harry's mouth. "Fuck, Harry, that's it. Yes," he hissed, "Yes, fuck yes don't stop…I'm going to come," the last sentence came more as a warning than anything else and so Harry moved more enthusiastically until he felt the grip in his hair tighten and Draco's cock flex in his mouth, his come coating his tongue and throat. "Harry, fuck," Draco swore again, letting go of him as he finished.

Swallowing and bringing a hand to the side of his jaw, massaging it gently, he stood, smiling at Draco. "Forgive me?"

Doing his trousers up, Draco raised an eyebrow. "As long as you keep your word."

Despite the silencing charm, they heard a muddled bang on the door again. Harry laughed, shaking his head, "Mar is going to fillet us."

"I doubt it," Draco said as he turned towards the mirror, checking his appearance quickly. "Nigel and she have fucked in here more than I can recall."

Harry pulled a disgusted face. "That was something I did not need to know," he commented, shaking the intrusive image from his head.

"I haven't my wand, Harry," he simply said.

"Oh, right, sorry." With another wave the noise flooded back to the bathroom and the door clicked open. Mar immediately threw it open, her hand on her hip, looking displeased or amused – Harry wasn't certain which one.

"Of course it was you two, who else would have the balls to do that in  _my_ café?"

Linking his arm around Harry's waist, pulling his boyfriend close to his side, Draco smirked. "Other than you, Mar? Nobody."

After what Mar perceived as a compliment (Harry could never quite understand her), Draco hurriedly excused themselves after paying the tab for their completely untouched drinks. He led them out onto the street, away from the smoke-filled café. "Where are we going?" Harry inquired.

"Back to open that wine you brought me."

Harry smiled. He couldn't be more relieved. He was certain one of these days he was going to bugger up what was becoming the best relationship he had ever been a part of, but today was not one of those days. Today, he was still huddled into Draco's side, their arms around one another, as they enjoyed the brisk evening walk back to his home.

Draco's house was a quaint property in one of the nicer neighbourhoods; modern, chic, and Harry was often in disbelief that Draco had settled for such a small place – despite it being twice the size of his own home.

"Did you really decide on robes for me to wear to that ridiculous Ministry ball?" Harry asked once they were finally at Draco's abode.

"Ridiculous?" Draco returned, bemused, as he poured them both full glasses of the dark red wine Harry had retrieved. "I would have assumed you would think it a wonderful thing your friend was being inaugurated as Minister for his fourth term."

"I do, I do. I just don't think the party is necessary nor my attendance," he explained, taking a large sip of the drink before scowling and reluctantly swallowing. "Can't I just have rye? Please?"

"You get too…you know what, yes, of course you can," Draco corrected himself, taking the wine glass and drinking it as his own.

Harry rolled his eyes, he knew Draco would polish off both glasses in a short period. "You could just drink from the bottle, I wouldn't mind," he teased.

Draco shot him a withering glance as he prepared Harry's double rye on the rocks. Harry eyed it curiously as he settled himself on the stool at the sleek island in the kitchen. "I just had you off, Malfoy, what exactly are you trying to do here?" he queried suggestively at the strong drink.

"Oh, nothing at all," Draco responded feigning innocence. "I placed an order at that shop in Hogsmeade for your robes last week, you need only get them fitted now."

"Thanks, I guess, but my old robes are fine."

Draco raised his eyebrow, sitting across from Harry, his foot automatically finding his boyfriend's calf. "Your definition of good dress astounds me to this day. You would assume some of my influence should have rubbed off on you. Though, I must admit I do prefer you with no clothes on at all," he advocated, his voice dropping as he leaned on his elbows across the table, grey eyes dilated.

Harry blinked and shook his head. "You horny bastard," he muttered.

"You love it," he reverted, his tongue flicking out across his lips before he took another drink.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, "I love  _you_." He said again, hoping to prompt some sort of reaction but Draco appeared once again unfazed. "Don't you have anything to say about that? I thought maybe, I don't know, is it okay that I'm in love with you?"

A deep laugh escaped Draco who was fingering the stem of his wine glass with his slender fingers. "I knew you were, Harry, you did not have to voice it," he said evenly.

"You knew? How could you know when I wasn't even sure of it till that moment?" Harry probed, clinking the ice together in his own glass.

Draco shrugged, his foot was slowly working its way up Harry's leg. "Like you said at Mar's; it's you and me, we don't do anything half-arsed. I could never simply fancy you, Harry, I could only loathe or love you. I prefer the latter – I get laid that way."

Harry chortled and despite himself and his comfort with his lover, his cheeks turned red. "You could get laid either way."

"Yes, that is true, but any fuck is not nearly as good as you, Harry. Hm, I knew from the moment I had you on your kitchen table I never wanted to fuck anybody else again," he purred.

A foot suddenly in a rather private area, Harry shifted in his seat, coughing, and concentrated on finishing off his drink which burned all the way down his throat. "So, are you saying that y-you – ah, Draco, stop – that you love me?"

"Do you really need me to  _say_  it? As much of a romantic as I am, words are often too simple," Draco was smirking devilishly now. "I can show you, if you would like." His foot moved experimentally in its place, the tips of his toes gently rolling across Harry's balls.

Harry sucked in a shaking breath, his grip tightening on his glass. "You  _just_  came, Dra-co," he commented, his words hitching as Draco moved his toes in exactly the right way again.

"I know, but you didn't, and it's been a week, Harry. I hate having to spend so long apart every time you have James," he added, one of the multitude of reasons he wished to make their relationship public knowledge. "Additionally, with your help, I could come again," Draco proposed.

The rest of their evening consisted of Harry attempting to stay on relatively innocent topics with Draco's foot continuously teasing him, sometimes joining in on the actual conversation, and mostly uttering innuendos. This was a common occurrence for their first evening together after spending a week away, which was every other week for them. And eventually, like every week, Harry would succumb to Draco and his bedroom.

Once Draco had polished off both glasses of wine, his restraint and usual cool poise was quickly abandoned. Harry had one last nearly melted ice cube in his glass which Draco reached across the table to claim. The cold water ran down his fingertips and forearm, he looked between it and Harry, his eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared beneath his fine hair. Harry looked at him curiously, wondering what exactly he was intending to do.

"Come on, Potter, I have an idea," Draco said, standing and out-stretching his hand, dropping the ice cube to the table.

Harry pretended not to be aroused at whatever in Godric's name Draco could be thinking about and quickly followed. Draco did not go far, however, and stopped at the fridge. From its ice maker he retrieved a handful of cubes. "Uh, Draco, what are you-"

"Sh, I promise you will like it. I think," he added, clearly unsure of his own idea.

They ended up in Draco's room, a trail of small droplets of water behind them, and Draco was quick to drop the ice with a soft clatter to the top of his armour – his hand reddened and cold. He turned on Harry and with one shove had him fumbling backwards onto the bed.

Surprised, Harry braced himself on his elbows, attempting to get up, only to be shoved back down again by Draco's body suddenly on top of him. Harry let his partner maneuver around his body, underneath his clothes, he allowed himself to be lost in each movement and touch Draco made. At thirty-one no matter what activity they were doing, whenever Harry was with Draco he felt ten years younger. He never felt like this with Ginny, she never gave him the same challenge Draco did, nor the level of intensity or passion.

Just as Draco was about to lower himself to Harry's erection, he requested Harry summon the ice cubes. Harry, both eyebrows in his hairline, did as he was told and deposited the ice cubes into Draco's waiting hand. "I have heard this is fantastic. Tell me how it feels," Draco said smirking, popping a slightly melted ice cube into his mouth.

"We're a little old to experiment, aren't we? And where did you hear about this from anyway, Nigel and, oh!" Harry exclaimed as he felt a sudden rush of cold on his member, despite being surrounded by heat. His head connecting with the pillow, Harry let out a shaking breath and fluttered his eyes shut.

* * *

Sun was barely creeping in through the master bedroom window when Harry was prodded awake. Rubbing at his weary eyes, craning his head upwards, he was greeted with Draco smiling down at him. "Morning, Potter," he drawled, sounding all too awake for…

"Bloody hell, it's only six!" Harry groaned, burying his head beneath the pillow.

Rolling his eyes, Draco removed the pillow from Harry's head and tossed it off to the side of his bed. "Yes, and I have a meeting at eight and  _you_  have to be at work for nine."

"Urgh, that's three whole hours! I don't need three hours to get ready for work," Harry grumbled, using the bedclothes to cover his head instead now.

Draco was quick to swipe the sheets away from him, grinning at Harry's sudden yelp at feeling the early morning cold creep up onto his bare skin. "Yes, usually, but this morning we have a visitor. Scorpius is coming home from his mother's early this week."

"Scorpius?" Harry startled, sitting up quickly enough to nearly wind himself. "I'll get going then."

Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Draco stopped him, his brows curiously knitted together. "Going? I thought it might be a perfect opportunity to discuss with him our relationship. You did say last night that you would become open about it, did you not?"

"Er, yeah, I guess I did," Harry mumbled, a sinking feeling of anxiety and regret burrowing in his belly. "Is now a very appropriate time?"

"Quit being such a coward, Potter. He will arrive within the hour. Coffee?" he offered, starting back towards the door.

Harry swallowed and nodded mutely. 'Fuck,' he inwardly swore. 'I'm about to tell Malfoy's son that I'm seeing his father. That means I have to tell James I'm seeing Draco Malfoy. Can I do that to James? Is he ready for that?' The panic rose in Harry, faster and higher than he could control it.

Without thought, without so much as succumbing to reason, Harry rushed to throw clothes on himself and without a moment's pause he apparated. He was standing in a kitchen that was not his own; a surprised scream startled from his sudden appearance.

Hermione steadied herself on the edge of the table where she was making place settings for breakfast, though from the sounds of the household nobody else had yet to stir from their slumbers. "Harry! What's wrong? Is everything alright?" she questioned hurriedly, ushering him to sit at the table, clearly distraught by not only his odd appearance at that time in the morning but also the contorted, fearfully anxious look on his face.

"I'm sorry, I know it's early and you both have to get the kids to Arthur and Molly's and it's early-"

"Shush, Harry, you're always welcome here. Would you like a cuppa?" Hermione offered at which Harry groaned.

"Draco was just going down into the kitchen to make coffee for us and he's going to go back upstairs and I won't even be there," he buried his face in his hands. Hermione frowned but did not ask questions as she went off to make them both cuppas as Harry took his time to explain what had happened starting from their fight the day before. When he was finished, along with half their coffees, they were being joined by a bleary-eyed Ron with a far-too-chipper Hugo attached at his hip.

"Harry? What'cha doing here?" Without looking up from his cup, Harry could tell Hermione sent him a look because he quickly brushed it off. "Not that it's a bother. Say hullo to Uncle Harry, Hugo," Ron set the young child down who shied away from Harry but sent him a small smile.

"What have you got there, Hugo?" Harry asked, gesturing at the stuffed animal in his arms.

Hugo shook his head quickly before clambering onto a seat at the table, looking expectantly at his mother. Hugo was much unlike his older sister; he was quiet, subdued, and for the most part kept to himself. Rose, on the other hand, was loud, boisterous, and adventurous. It was always nerve-wrecking when Rose and James would get together; the mischief those two conducted was certainly alarming at times for children of their age. Needless to say, Uncle George was always rather proud of those two.

Hermione went about depositing breakfast for everybody, including Harry who uttered his thankfulness, as they filled Ron in on Harry's dilemma. Afterwards, Ron sighed, shaking his head. "You know where I stand, mate," he reiterated, referring to their conversation just yesterday. "James deserves to know, he's more resilient than you think."

"I agree with Ron, however, if you don't feel comfortable doing something then you shouldn't do it," Hermione said pointedly. "Malfoy shouldn't be forcing and coercing you into coming out. When you're ready, you'll be ready, and that's not for him to decide."

Harry smiled earnestly at her, polishing off his cuppa. "I can't help but feel bad, I mean, I should've at least said something."

"Too right you should have. If he's anything like you say he is, he'll have your head for that, mate."

For a second time, Harry groaned and covered his face. "I'm a thirty one year old man and this is the second time I've run from Draco. Gods, I'm pathetic!"

Hermione hushed him, finally taking her seat at the table. "Nonsense, Harry, you're just concerned with how James will react. That is all it is, right?" she questioned as an afterthought.

"Of course that's it! I don't care if anybody else knows, it's just about James…and Gin. You know how much she hates Malfoy," Harry sighed.

"Good thing she's your  _ex_ -wife, mate," Ron reminded him.

"Ta, Ron," Harry said sarcastically. "If she doesn't approve, there'd be no point in telling James because she has just as much of a say as I do who he spends his time around. And what would happen if Ginny and James didn't care? If they were okay with everything and actually ended up liking Draco?"

The married couple exchanged a look between each other before Hermione distracted herself with helping Hugo cut up his sausages and toast. "Isn't that what you want?" Ron questioned.

"Of course it is, but it would only mean that it could devastate James if anything were to happen to us."

"Oh, Harry, you're such a great father," Hermione whispered, not looking up from Hugo's plate. "But, what will happen to James is his father never takes that chance? If he never gets to really experience his dad being happy; his dad having a family of his own?"

Harry looked across at her skeptically. "I am happy!" he protested.

"Yeah, as happy as Moody was with a flask of Firewhiskey," Ron muttered.

"Besides, I'm only  _dating_  him, he already has a son of his own…Draco and I could never be a family, it just wouldn't work," Harry shook the idea away.

"And why not?" Hermione returned. "Have you talked to him about any of this?"

Ron nodded, gesturing at his wife. "You have to, mate. As nuts as it sounds, I think that ferret bastard might actually want that with you."

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed at the language, but thankfully Hugo, as per usual, was quiet and distanced from the conversation around him.

"I'm just saying," Ron continued, "Wanting to introduce you to his son is a pretty big commitment. I may never have liked him but from what I've seen his life is all about Scorpius."

Hermione was quickly humming, agreeing with her husband. "If Malfoy cares about anything it would be his son. And you, of course," she added.

"I just never thought Draco would want that with me. I mean, I hadn't seen him in years and then suddenly I'm losing the plot!" Harry moaned, running a hand through his mussed hair.

Ron leaned over on his seat far enough to clap Harry on the shoulder. "It happens to the best of us." Hermione raised an expectant eyebrow at Ron who flushed and quickly amended himself. "And it's the best damn thing that can ever happen to you."

* * *

The day slipped by rather uneventfully which was more than a surprise to Harry. Usually when he and Draco had a falling out of any kind it would be only a few hours at most before he found himself in possession of another nipping envelope – much to Ron's chagrin. Instead, it was a relatively quiet day at the Department for Magical Law Enforcement besides an incident involving rogue pixies. By the time dinner came and went, Harry was in a mess. Between thinking about what Ron and Hermione had said earlier that morning and contemplating just how peeved Draco truly was, he hadn't realised how late it was until his secretary, Sharla, informed him that she herself was going home.

Harry leaned back in his office chair, his hands fingering his frayed quill. On the back of his desk his eyes landed on the pictures of his son, his parents, Teddy alongside Andromeda Tonks, as well as Hermione, Ron and their children. Something was not quite right with his small collection of moving memorabilia, looking out from their frames and waving at him. Something was missing.

When exactly what was missing hit Harry, his stomach dropped. "Merlin, what have I been doing?" he groaned, dropping his quill and quickly throwing his abandoned cloak on and hurrying out of his office, not even bothering to lock it as he usually would. 'I fucked up badly this time,' he thought to himself, in a rush to take the lift down to the employee's gate.

'Wine. Carmenere is best. And flowers…no, Draco will sic his house elf on me for that,' Harry conceded. Yes, he admittedly overreacted to the prospect of meeting Scorpius in the context of being Draco's partner, and the way he left was certainly not going to help his situation.

The crepuscular sky hung overhead as Harry finally gathered his many apologies, as expensive as they could come, within his arms and tried to apparate over to Draco's. Harry looked around, confused. He recognized the area though not intimately enough to pinpoint his location. Wherever he was, he was certain it wasn't Draco's home. Taking consideration of his surroundings, it was obvious he was still in the same area of London, in the back of an alley. Harry grumbled and walked out onto the street; he was two blocks away from his home.

'He must have changed the wards around his house. Bollocks, he must be more upset than I thought.'

But it wasn't just the wards around Draco's house that had changed. It appeared Draco had a busy day all to himself and Harry soon found himself swearing between house number 324 and 328, unable to find or see 326 whatsoever. It was as if it were never there. Fuming, Harry clenched his fists at his sides and apparated again with a crack.

Underneath the shroud of the Fidelius Charm, two grey eyes watched the disappearing man with mild distress.

"Father, Uncle Blaise is in the fire in the study," a soft voice came from the doorway to the living room.

Draco turned to Scorpius and forced a sad smile, hoping it would convince his son. "Thanks, Scorpius. And remember," he walked by him, ruffling his strikingly platinum hair into a slight mess, "It's dad."

Scorpius frowned after his father and knew better than to follow him into the study as he took the stairs two at a time till he reached his own bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

Blaise had already invited himself through the Floo by the time Draco entered his study. His best friend was sitting at his drawing desk, one leg crossed over the other as he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. "You alright?"

Draco barely regarded Blaise as he made his way to the mantle-place, running his hand distractedly along it before he finally faced him. "He was here."

"How?" Blaise queried, straightening up in his seat slightly with interest.

"Not quite here, but he was outside. Clearly Parkinson did well with that Fidelius Charm."

"Zabini," Blaise corrected to which Draco raised an uncaring brow. "Potter's always been a knobjockey, but are you sure you want to do this? You told me things were going fairly well."

Draco sat in the armchair by the fire, rubbing one of his temples. "They were, if you consider only having six people privy to your relationship."

"I never took you for a romantic, Malfoy," he teased. "Honestly, what did you want out of everything? You're thirty, a Malfoy, divorced, and have a son," Blaise finished seriously.

"You know exactly what I wanted out of everything," Draco returned levelly.

Blaise frowned. "You really thought you would get that from Potter?"

"Ever since I was ten I knew what was expected of me. I would have to marry into a good pureblood family; I needed to provide an heir for our lineage. When I learned I…" Draco trailed off, attempting to locate how to delicately explain it.

"Preferred the opposite gender?" Blaise supplied.

"…exactly. I knew I would have to have a relationship with full disclosure. As much as Astoria displeases me, she understood my situation. So I waited. I waited till I had my son, till Astoria and I properly separated, till I finally let myself actually…Oh sod off, Zabini," Draco snapped at his friend who was coughing in an attempt to cover his fit of laughter at his romanticised speech. "I have only been truly looking for somebody for the past seven years only to find I didn't want anybody to be with. There was nobody… _stimulating_ enough I could stand the thought of seeing them every day."

"What about that uh, Eric fellow?" his friend questioned, struggling with his name.

Draco had to chuckle at that. "Eric? You mean, the only man I saw twice in one week? Until Harry came along I was pretty damn sure I would never be satisfied. But then, when I saw him in Antonio's that night, I felt challenged just by his presence. Gods, I wanted to break him down as fast as I could. Even if we're having a night in, it's never boring, we always find something to argue about."

Waggling his finger quickly in the air, Blaise interrupted him. "That's not the sign of a healthy relationship whatsoever, Malfoy, you can't be with somebody simply because they keep you entertained. With fighting, nonetheless."

"It wasn't like that. It was…it was Harry and me. We were always comfortable enough with one another to be honest."

Slowly rising from his chair, Blaise made his way over to his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was very rare for Draco to allow himself to be so emotionally open, so vulnerable to judgement. "You really loved Potter, 'eh?"

Draco sighed. "I still fucking do."

"Then why are you doing this to him?" Blaise questioned confusedly, he couldn't quite keep up with everything.

"He humiliated me. He lied. He obviously will never be ready to commit to me enough to even introduce himself to my son! And as much as I care about Harry, I love Scorpius more."


	2. Chapter Two

Miserable didn't even begin to describe what Harry had been feeling for the past week. He had called into work three times – something that was unheard of beforehand. He spent most of his nights at Draco's favourite café, sipping his old lover's favourite latte in the corner and just hoping he would come inside. Mar and Nigel had neither seen nor heard from him.

Each of Harry's attempts at finding Draco's house fell to pieces; whoever had cast the Fidelius charm had done it to perfection. Every time he sent Pinna out with a letter, she ended up with it returned not much later (the poor owl was starting to become peeved with her owner, downright refusing letters sometimes despite their recipients).

The few Muggle and wizarding establishments Harry knew Draco not only heavily invested in but also spent the majority of his time at hated seeing Harry Potter walk in their doors after only a few days. He visited them multiple times a day, buying the minimum order, and brooding for what could be hours on end some times in the hope of seeing Draco. Of talking to him. Of apologizing.

Harry's courage had returned. He would tell his son if that's what it meant to be happy – Ron and Hermione were right, as always, and he obviously couldn't function properly without being with Draco. Not after he had known him the way he had. Harry found it so pathetic that he was even running out of things to wear because he couldn't be bothered with doing the laundry; it would take too much time out of standing idly waiting for Draco. But Draco never came. It was as if he abandoned his work; temporarily or permanently was beyond Harry.

It was Friday evening as they just finished getting ready for the Ministry ball when James finally spoke to his father. For the past five days he had been with him, even an eight year-old could deduce something wasn't quite right. Just before Flooing, James pulled his dad aside biting his lip timidly. "Dad, is everything okay with mum?"

Blinking in surprise, Harry dropped to his knees and immediately reassured him. "Of course everything is. Why, did something happen?"

James shook his head, his unruly hair covering his eyes as he bit back his embarrassment. "It's just, uh, you're not playing so much with me and Pinna anymore. And, er, after spatting with Mum you wouldn't play with us, either."

Harry frowned and pulled his son into him for what he hoped was a comforting embrace. "No, everything with your mum is fine, Dean, and your sister, too."

"Then what is it? Daddy, please don't lie to me," he added in softly.

Harry felt his heart break a little at his son's request – is that what he had been doing for the past seven months, lying to him? Harry didn't know how to respond to that. The situation was too complex for James to understand. "Did you, er, meet somebody to be your wife like Dean is mummy's husband?" Harry's look of shock in response obviously concerned James who spoke again, more quickly. "It's just, you were really happy for a while, all weird and stuff, and I heard mum say something…nevermind," he waved his small, fragile hand.

"James," Harry began softly. "There was somebody."

"Was?" James blinked up, his face furrowed.

"Yes. Was. Is that alright with you? If I were to be with somebody the way mum is with your step-dad?" he asked carefully.

"Of course, I love Dean!" James exclaimed and Harry ignored his pang of jealousy – he really was glad his son got along so well with his old school mate and Ginny's new husband, but it was natural to feel the sting of competition.

Standing, Harry ruffled his son's hair and gestured him towards the Floo. "Good. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner about them, James."

"That's okay. Mum says adults have to keep secrets sometimes but it's for our own good," James smiled lopsidedly, grabbing a handful of Floo powder in the flower pot his father was extending towards him.

Harry's lips twitched, slightly curious what kind of secrets Ginny had to keep from them, before ushering James into the fireplace. As his son disappeared in a flash of green flames, Harry was soon to follow with a heavy sigh. 'They were all right. James really would have been ready to hear about Draco and me. I'm buggered, now.'

When he arrived on the other end of the Floo, he straightened himself and his robes, dusting off any debris from the travel. Draco had picked out quite the wonderful set of robes. Despite the blond's sudden and complete absence for Harry's life, he still had gone to the robe shop in Hogsmeade to size and retrieve his special order. Just like nearly every robe Draco owned, Harry's were monogramed with a 'P'. They were a sharp black, fitted in the middle and flared out at the hems. The inside as well as the accents around the cuffs were a brilliant emerald green. Slytherin colours, Harry had noted immediately, with a grimacing pang.

"Daddy! Rose is here!" James exclaimed and before Harry could even respond his son was taking off from his side, hurrying to his best friend who was most certainly there alongside her parents, beaming and waving James on.

Once Harry joined Ron and Hermione they smiled sadly. Gods, he hated how comforting they were always trying to be. "Have you guys been in yet?" Harry quipped, shoving his hands in his pockets and rolling on his heels.

"Like sardines in a pool, mate."

Hermione laughed at her husband, swatting his shoulder. "Sardines in a tin can," she corrected bemusedly.

Ron's ears turned pink. "Whatever," he mumbled, turning his attention to Rose who was begging something quietly of her mother.

"If it's alright with Uncle Harry it is fine with me," Hermione said at last. No doubt they were asking their permission to wreak havoc somewhere out of their eyesight.

"Can we Uncle Harry?"

"Please, Dad? All the kids are there!"

Harry, having no idea what they were even talking about, waved them off. "Your robes are brilliant, Harry," Hermione commented once they were alone.

"And you're beautiful as always," Harry returned smiling. "Draco got this for me," he added.

Hermione quickly attempted to hide her frown and was thankful her husband stepped in to change the subject. "All our old mates are here."

"Even Seamus?" Harry asked, excited at the prospect of seeing him.

"Even Seamus," Ron grinned, leading the trio into the expansive Ministry hall where all larger Ministry events were held. The formal vow of taking up his mantel as Minister again had already been completed two days earlier, this was the informal celebration.

Harry found himself more distracted than he had been in days. The kids would come barrelling back to their parents every once in awhile, excitedly talking about something or other, or asking permission to talk to somebody or eat something (or twice in an attempt to weasel some confiscated Weasley products from Ron's pockets). Hugo was staying at his grandparents as was Ginny and Dean's daughter, Delilah, as Harry learned when they joined them. There were plenty of old faces to catch up with, including many of retired Aurors eager to speak with Harry again. Putting on his impressionable mask as the Head Auror, Harry spoke exuberantly to everyone who approached him.

Six Firewhiskeys and four hours later, Harry was knackered but the alcohol coursing through him allowed him to forget about his weariness. More importantly, he forgot about Draco.

Until he saw him.

But he didn't just see him. He saw him  _with_ somebody else.

Harry was at his table with Luna and her husband Rolf, listening with intrigue – mostly confusion – at their newest findings of mystical and magical creatures. His eyes caught the sight across the crowded hall near the punch table of his ex-lover and another man.  _Another man._

The glass he had been holding with a vice grip suddenly shattered, startling his friends. He quickly mumbled his apologies and something about a heavy grip to which Luna clearly didn't appear convinced as she leaned across the table, her eyes sparkling as always. "Harry, your head is full of wrackspurts," she commented airily.

Rolf was nodded in agreement. "He has a knack for wrackspurts, hasn't he?"

"Harry doesn't want to talk to us any longer, Rolf," Luna said bluntly, standing up and brushing off her vibrant purple dress as she did.

"Lovely as always, Mr. Potter," Rolf shook Harry's slightly trembling hand and he couldn't even drag his eyes away from Draco and his partner to say goodbye to them.

Waving an absent hand over the debris, the glass repaired itself. But Harry didn't care about the glass, or the shard that had sliced a patch of skin on his palm, all he cared about was who the fuck Draco was with and why he thought it would be even remotely okay to be with anybody. The other man was shorter, broad, and had thin brown hair. He looked at least five years younger than Draco – and strikingly handsome, to Harry's chagrin. Draco's arm was lying lazily around his shoulders, he was laughing mirthfully with him along with Blaise and Pansy Zabini. His grey eyes looked absolutely alight. Harry's hands were gripping on his table into fists, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. Draco looked beautiful and, as Harry noted, his robes matched Harry's down to the last thread asides from the Malfoy crest on his breast instead.

Anger and jealousy built in his stomach like an unstoppable storm. It had been eight days. Eight days! "You're growling, mate," Ron's voice said warningly, stepping in front of Harry blocking his view of Draco, most likely on purpose.

Harry blinked and looked up at Ron, shaking his head. "He- he –" Harry couldn't find the words, his voice was strained. He felt a mess. He hadn't been prepared to see Draco whatsoever and most certainly not with another man on his arm.

"We know," Hermione said softly from behind, her hand falling on his shoulder. "We hoped you wouldn't see."

"You knew he was here with somebody else and didn't tell me?" Harry accused lowly.

"What else were we supposed to do? Tell you and chance the chandelier blowing into pieces? Or so you could be miserable and go home with James?" Ron countered. "It would've been best if you didn't see him at all, but…"

"He's with somebody else!" Harry exclaimed at last, pointing a finger accusingly around Ron's side in the general direction of where he knew Draco still was.

Hermione shoved his hand down and came around to his front as well, her hands on her hips as she looked down at him direly. "Yes, he is, but that's no reason to make a scene, Harry."

"No reason to make a scene?" Harry repeated, flabbergasted. "I love him! He was with me a bloody week ago! He obviously can't have moved on yet!" his voice was rising, his whole body was trembling.

"Daddy?" came a small, concerned voice beside him.

Harry turned his attention quickly to his son, shame fleeting across his features. "Not here, Harry. Not now," Hermione whispered, gesturing at James with her eyes. She was right. It wasn't the place and it certainly wasn't alright for James to see him like that.

"Sorry, buddy," Harry breathed, pulling James towards him.

James was looking curiously around at all the adults before he took a small step back. "Rose wanted me to sleep over tonight, can I?"

"That's up to Aunt Hermione."

"That's fine, James. Come on, why don't you show me what you two are up to?" Hermione urged, holding her hand out to her godson which he quickly took, hurrying away from his father without a backwards glance.

Ron sat in Luna's vacated seat, looking over his shoulder grumbling as he did. "What a rotten thing to do."

"Would you look at them?" Harry seethed, leaning around Ron's figure to catch Draco and his new friend. They had drifted onto the dance floor now, their arms wrapped around each other, they were both always laughing, always smiling, and their bodies were pressed up against one another far too closely. "Is that any way to act in public? Bloody indecent if you ask me. How could Draco even like him? Look at his robes! They're clearly too small for him! And-and his hair? Who even wears their hair like that?"

"Mate, slow down there," Ron interjected. "I know you'd rather swallow a flobberworm whole than see this but it's hardly the place to act like this. Maybe we should get you some pumpkin juice? 'Mione always keeps a Pepper-Up in her robe when we come to these things; more for me than anybody," he admitted.

"I should go talk to him. I need to," Harry said desperately, his eyes trained on the dancing couple amidst the crowd as he ignored his friend's suggestion.

"Here?"

"If not here where else? I can't fucking find him anywhere!" Harry snapped.

Ron sighed, wringing his hands together on the table top. He knew better than to argue with Harry, especially with some of Odgen's finest in him. "I'll come with you," he said resolutely.

"Ron," Harry turned to him circumspectly.

"I'll distract the other bloke so you can actually talk to him," he offered. "Just don't let anything get out of hand, 'eh? You're Head Auror," he reminded him.

"Bloody didn't wish I was today because I would-"

" _Head Auror_ ," Ron interrupted seriously.

Harry sighed and nodded, if it wasn't for his friends he was certain he would have been across the hall and without a job. Possibly with a sentence in Azkaban, too. After a hurried splash of pumpkin juice, they made their way over to the dance floor, expertly avoiding contact with anybody on their way. The closer he got to the scene, the more his heart twisted in his chest as his anger melted into jealousy more than anything.

Before even making their presence known, Draco's eyes snapped to Harry as they came within a few feet. He observed him, that unmoveable mask slipping into place, as he stilled their dance to a halt and released his partner, though not fully as his arm pressed against his lower back. "Malfoy," Ron greeted squarely, breaking the tension.

The partner must have been at a loss as he looked between the three, the pressure thickening like a light night fog. "Name's Clarence Derby," he offered his hand out to Harry. "Oh Merlin, Harry Potter?" he muttered, flushing as his eyes darted to the unmistakeable scar.

Harry ignored the hand and the man, turning to Draco fully with his eyebrows raised, attempting to keep his emotions hidden. " _Clarence_?" he silently mouthed. Much to his pleasure, the corner of Draco's mouth twitched, an amused smirk threatening him on the horizon.

"Er, Clarence, nice to meet you," Ron stepped in quickly, shaking the denied hand and in doing so pulling Clarence slightly away from Draco, asking him about what it was he did and how he knew Draco.

Draco crossed his arms. "I did not think you would come. Without-" Draco had begun only to stop himself.

'Without you making me?' Harry finished for him in his own head. "Yeah, well, Head Auror and all. Have to be here for the department. And for Kingsley," he iterated exactly the reasons Draco had given to him just over a week ago.

An awkward silence lapsed between them and Harry had to force himself not to look directly at Draco which proved itself quite the feat with those grey eyes burning into him like Fiendfyre. "Listen, if there is nothing you wish to say to me I would kindly appreciate it if I could return to my date," Draco said tightly at last.

'I have plenty to say,' Harry thought to himself but resorted to, "Why won't you answer my owls?"

Draco's lips drew into a thin line, Harry could tell he was suppressing his desire to yell – his neck always tightened in this odd, almost undiscernible way when he did. "Nothing you say will change what happened."

"Nothing?" Harry croaked, swallowing his desperation. "Draco," he started softly, wanting so earnestly to reach for and grab him, shake him from his anger, and get him to understand. Somewhere in his subconscious he was even considering legilimency; to show Draco exactly what had gone through his head and what was going through it now. "I-I hate this," Harry admitted quietly, looking a foot away to where Ron was doing an amendable job at keeping Clarence distracted.

"Of course, and it is all about Harry Potter once again. I don't have time for this, Potter. Please, allow me to-"

"No!" Harry all but screamed. He sharply inhaled, shaking his head. "I've been trying to find you for a week, Draco. You've bloody disappeared! Then you show up here with some other bloke like nothing happened? Who the fuck does that?"

If Draco felt any remorse, he didn't show it. "Somebody who realised he was being a damned fool before. I am too old to wait around for you and I got sick of waiting. Do us all a favour and grow up, Potter, the world does not revolve around you," he spoke equably.

"But I'm ready.  _I'm ready_ ," Harry repeated under his breath, staring at him unblinkingly. He needed Draco to see he was serious. "I want to be committed, I want to tell James, I want-"

"Father?"

It was Scorpius, and surprisingly, Rose along with James. " _Dad_ ," Draco corrected. "What is it, son?" As he turned to face his son, his demeanor changed entirely. His shoulders slackened, a small smile came across his lips and he appeared overall restful.

Harry flushed, trying his best to take a leaf out of Draco's book and mask the hundreds of emotions that he knew were displaying themselves across his face. "Is everything alright, James?"

"Brilliant," Rose answered for him. James was looking inquiringly at his father and seemed mute for the moment. "Mum already said it was alright but Scorp-Scorpius," she said slowly, struggling with the name, "needs to ask his daddy, first."

Ron and Clarence had rejoined them as Scorpius properly addressed his father. "This is Rose Weas-" Scorpius frowned and looked at what appeared to be his new friends.

"Rose Weasley," the eldest supplied.

"And James Potter," Scorpius finished. "They were having a…what did you call it, James?" Scorpius queried, turning to the messy-haired youth.

"It's called a sleepover, Scorpius," James rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

"Yes, a sleepover. May I join them, father?" Scorpius asked and gods, he not only looked but sounded like Draco to such a point Harry would have been disturbed if the eight year-old wasn't adorable.

Draco's face contorted into that of absolute surprise. "A-a," he stopped himself, clearing his throat. "I do not think that is the wisest," he said after collecting himself.

"But, father!" Scorpius exclaimed.

"Oh, please Mr. Scorpius' dad!" Rose whinged. "Please, please! My little brother isn't even home and we'll be good, we promise! We always behave at sleepovers, right dad?" Rose asked, turning to Ron.

Still absolutely shocked, Ron nodded as words failed him. Draco sighed and lowered himself to Scorpius' level. "You know you can't, son, you have to be off to your mother's in the morning."

"But I don't want to go!" Scorpius retorted loudly, stomping his foot and petulantly sticking his lips out. "I hate mommy, I hate her house, I hate her  _friends_ , it's all just awful!" he whined.

Draco hid his embarrassment at his son's slight outburst and took him gently by the arm, bringing him closer to him and whispering in his ear. Scorpius frowned and nodded after a moment before turning back to Rose and James. "Thank you for your offer, but I cannot go this time," Scorpius mumbled.

Harry blinked. Scorpius sounded much too refined for an eight year-old, but what else did he expect of Draco's child? "That's alright. Come on, I bet we could find more-" Rose cut herself off, looking cautiously at her dad.

"More treacle tarts?" James finished suggestively for her.

"Yeah, more treacle tarts," she grinned.

The kids started off together again, slightly less enthusiastically as they had approached them, with Ron's yell lingering after them, "No Weasley products!" he recapped.

With the children gone off again, Harry turned to Draco who was once again standing too close to Clarence for his own liking. And Clarence had the audacity to kiss him on the cheek. In public. He  _kissed_  him. When Harry took a deep breath, he felt it jarring uncomfortably in his chest. "Draco, I-"

Draco raised his hand, stopping Harry's words. "I really don't have the time for this right now, Potter. Stop by and we can discuss it over tea some other time," he instructed, sounding as if he were dealing with a client.

Harry blinked. "Stop by? I can't find your bloody house!"

"Exactly."

And with that he was turning on heel. Harry wanted to shout in frustration. He wanted to chase after Draco and make a damned fool of himself. But he knew better not to and Ron was already steering him away by his elbow.

It wasn't much longer before Harry was bidding his goodbyes to his friends and his son, pointedly looking anywhere but at the perfect child replica of Draco, and Flooing back to his house. In the dark, Harry went about making a cuppa to suppress the lingering firewhiskey. At his kitchen table, Harry tried hard not to think of the first time he had ever brought Draco to his home. Of the papers scattered across the floor as he crawled up Draco's body, felt him all over, took him into his mouth and memorised every sound and reaction Draco made to his movements.

But it wasn't the sex that Harry was missing – or at least not entirely. It was his presence. His snarky comments at the end of the day, or those snapping envelopes when they had gone without contact for a few days, or that smoke-filled café, or his laughter ringing in Harry's ear, or the way he always crinkled his nose when Harry wore something he deemed distasteful. Harry missed it all and he thought it would get better as the days drifted, but time proved to make him ache more.

When Harry fell asleep that night after visiting with Pinna, he was all too aware of how quiet his house was. And he hated it.

* * *

_October 29_ _th_ _, 2011_

Hushed voices passed by his office; both familiar but one Harry was not able to quite place. Tapping his quill on his desk, Harry frowned. It was well past ten o'clock in the evening and the only Aurors in the department were those on duty – two of them, and he was certain they had just left down the lift for break. Curious, and perhaps bored out of his mind with incident reports, Harry slowly stood up and edged towards his office door. Did they not notice he was in there? His walls were glass – and Harry that late at night had difficulty guessing who it was by the backs of their heads.

A strip of the lamplight from one of the officer's on duty's desk illuminated one of the individual's hair and Harry frowned. 'What's Ron doing here so late?' he wondered to himself. Coughing loudly as he entered the general room of the office for Magical Law Enforcement, the two men jumped their attention towards Harry who raised his eyebrow questionably. "What are you doing here so late, Ron? And… _Zabini_ , is that you?" he queried, truly taken aback at the other party.

Ron and Blaise exchanged worrisome glances before the redhead stuttered his response. "Er, just had to grab the old address book," Ron informed, he was walking towards his desk and pointedly took out from it a leather book.

"At ten o'clock at night?" Harry pressed.

"What are you doing here anyway? You've been here since seven in the morning!" Ron shot back accusingly, attempting a change in conversation.

"Nothing better to do," Harry mumbled. He didn't want to talk about why he was here and the fact that he despised his quiet, empty house more than ever now that it had been so long since he had been with Draco.

"I needed a few names I had forgotten," Blaise stepped in, supplying an explanation. "I am, well, Pans is and by the most unfortunate of associations  _I_  am having a Hallow's Eve ball. Last minute owls to be sent out, you know how it is," he explicated.

Harry sent an interrogative look at Ron who avoided his eyes but shrugged as if to say that was indeed what they were there for. "I met him down at the pub, you know how I went off to the Leaky with Dean tonight? Anyway, Zabini was in a tiff with his old woman about him having forgotten posting half the invites. Felt bad for a fellow and this was the best I could do to help," Ron clarified.

"Why are you all so bloody jumpy then? It's not like you're sneaking dungbombs into Russell's desk or anything, is it?" Harry teased. "Are you two off to the pub again? I could really use a night cap, actually."

"Er, not tonight, I-I think we're all-" Ron was searching for excuses, scrapping the barrel. Harry was crossing his arms now, looking at him peculiarly trying to decipher what Ron's problem was.

"I think you should leave, Potter," Blaise said coldly all of a sudden, his voice dropping.

Harry eyed him now. "I reckon you've forgotten, Zabini, but this is my department and-"

"Ah, Potter," came a fourth voice from behind Harry.

Stilling, the hairs on the back of his neck and down his arms stood up. 'Not here. He's not here,' Harry repeated to himself, hoping the more he repeated it the truer it would become. A presence came close to him and he could immediately smelt the strength of Odgen's mingled with his distinguishable shampoo. Harry stiffened, his eyes closing softly as he resisted the urge to allow himself to bolt as far away from him as possible. He had run away from Draco twice and he wasn't about to do it a third time.

Harry turned on his heel and was looking directly at Draco, who in turn was peering down his nose at his old lover, his grey eyes calculating. They hadn't seen one another since the Ministry ball, despite Harry's attempts at contact (which after two weeks dwindled to being nonexistent). "What are you doing here?" he whispered.

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Draco licked his lips before slowly responding. "Helping Zabini solve his problem."

'Oh, so that was actually true,' Harry thought to himself, suppressing a sigh. "Well, hurry up then, this floor is not cleared for visitors at this hour of the night. Ron, you should have known better," he chastised, turned on his heel, and walked as resolutely to his office as he could, softly closing the door behind him. He cursed his glass walls at the moment for he wanted nothing more than to slink down against his wall, but he wouldn't let Malfoy see him like that, especially after how long it had been since they had broken up. He couldn't let him think he was as pathetic as he felt.

Busying himself with tidying up his work, Harry tried to ignore the voices in the other room and kept his eyes anywhere but on the three individuals invading his department. Slipping his cloak on, Harry was about to sneak off to the lift at the end of the corridor outside his office when a head poked in before he could. Harry was surprised to see Blaise standing there, leaning against the frame of his office doorway.

"You know, you're welcome to join us on Saturday night," Blaise offered, taking from his cloak a piece of parchment. "Pans wants it to be the party of the century – wants to show off the new manor, well, you know how women are."

Harry eyed him guardedly. "Uh…I appreciate the offer, Zabini, but-"

"The Weasleys are coming," Zabini cut him off. "And Draco has a…" he made a wild gesture with his hand, " _Thing_  to attend to."

'A date,' Harry filled in for himself, frowning. "Just think about it, 'eh? Nothing wrong with some civil company," Blaise said as he tossed the invitation in Harry's direction before leaving. It appeared everybody else had gone as well, leaving Harry to take his time dragging himself to the lift.

When he got home that night, Harry was surprised to find a note waiting for him on his kitchen table. Sighing, wanting nothing more than to tip back some Dreamless Sleep and hit his pillow, he obliged the summons to Ginny and Dean's abode. At the hour, Harry was curious what it is Ginny could want – maybe that note had been there since lunch and he wouldn't have known the better, or maybe James' night terrors could be returning. Whatever it was, Harry found himself stepping through the Floo once again that night with that invitation feeling heavy in his breast pocket.

On the other side the house was quiet but not yet completely still. Ginny was there, waiting expectantly, a nearly empty glass of wine curled around her hand as she flipped through the newest version of the Quibbler. She looked up at Harry, clearly tired, and smiled the best she could for the late hour. "Sorry, Gin," he apologised, helping himself to a seat beside his ex-wife, "I just got in."

"Work?" she countered, folding the magazine and tossing it to the table. "You work too much, Harry."

He shrugged. "Nothing better to do," he returned for the second time that evening. What did it matter to everybody else how often Harry worked? "James alright?"

Ginny frowned and shifted herself about in her seat until her legs were crossed and she was fully facing Harry. "James is fine. Great, really, but for the past month he's been…" she trailed off, awkwardly avoiding Harry's eyes. "…He's been seeing a new friend regularly while he's been here. They've been owling one another almost constantly and, well, he made me promise not to tell you but I think it's a bit ridiculous he's still keeping it from you. You have every right to know who you son plays with and, well, just don't be mad, okay?" Her words were laced with concern.

"Is it Malfoy's kid?" Harry returned quietly.

"How-"

"They met at the Ministry ball, and, well…you could tell they hit it off and I think James could tell that there was something, er, that Drac-Malfoy and I didn't get on," Harry enlightened, stumbling with his words.

Ginny eyed Harry carefully. "You really hate Malfoy that much still? Scorpius is great – really well behaved. From what I can see he's a great father and a lot more mature than he's ever been. I think it'd be nice if maybe James could have a friend over at your place sometimes other than Rose…he always says he hates how quiet it is there," Ginny admitted.

Harry clenched at her words. "Does he hate coming home?"

"Not at all!" she quickly assured him. "He loves spending time with you he just says you've been really quiet lately and working all the time. A truce with Malfoy wouldn't be that terrible, would it?"

"You've no idea, Gin," Harry muttered. 'Gods,' he direly thought, 'Will there ever been an aspect of my life that Draco  _isn't_  in?'

"Tell me then, whatever hatred you still have for Malfoy, is it really worth keeping your son's friends away from him?"

"I don't hate Malfoy," Harry confessed.

Ginny blinked, surprised. "If you don't hate him, then it would be alright if Malfoy brought him over then, right?"

Harry looked at Ginny seriously; he was too tired for this but there was no way he was going to be able to avoid it now. "I don't hate him, Gin, because I love him."

Silence enveloped them for quite some time. Ginny was fumbling with her glass, her eyes as wide as its base. When it was clear Ginny wasn't going to make a sound, Harry began his explanation of his admission. It was well past half eleven when he finished, rubbing his temples to keep him from drifting off to sleep – it was far too late for this.

"Seven months?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Seven months," he clarified.

"Were you happy?"

"Yeah," Harry said, smiling softly, "And I'm pretty sure he was, too."

Ginny suddenly took the pillow from behind her back and tossed it quickly at Harry's chest; he looked over at her wildly, confused. She looked angry.  _Really_  angry. Even angrier then when he forgot to bring her home Florentine's ice cream when she was eight months pregnant. "You were bloody happy with somebody for the first time in Merlin knows how long and you fucking screwed it up that badly? Harry James Potter, what is wrong with you? Why can't you just let yourself be happy for once!" she was obviously suppressing the desire to yell, keeping in mind the sleeping children one floor above as well as her slumbering husband.

"I-I…what was I supposed to do? Tell James about us?"

"Yes! I told him about Dean, clearly. You have to take the chance, Harry, or else you'll be miserable the rest of your life. You know who you'll end up like if you keep going like this, if you don't do whatever it is you can to be fucking happy for once?" she swore. Harry was taken aback by her anger on his behalf and shook his head solemnly. "Like Moody was! An old, lonely, unhappy, bastard! You're still my friend, Harry, and I'll always love you, but it kills me to see you this unhappy! If Malfoy actually gave you that for once, you should bloody well hang onto it the best you can!" she opined.

Harry frowned, averting his eyes from the enraged woman and to her dwindling fire instead. "It's too late now."

"Is it?"

* * *

_Two Days Later._

James was pulling on his father's arm with all his might; dragging Harry the best he could towards the front door. "Just go! Daaaad, just go already!" he whinged.

But it wasn't as simple as leaning forward and knocking on the door. He knew who was in there. The son of the man Harry wanted nothing more than to see and never see again at the same time. "Potter?"

Harry sighed, his shoulders shrinking at the distant familiarity. "Zabini told me to come," he said automatically, as if he needed an excuse.

"James!"

"Scorpius!" The two boys squealed at each other, greeting one another merrily. Scorpius gestured at Harry quickly and nudged towards the door. "Oh, right! Dad, can I go-"

"Yes, yes, go on," Harry said quickly, staying rooted to the spot before the door.

Scorpius, who must have been a frequent visitor at the Zabini household, ushered himself and his friend inside as his father came around to stand before Harry.

"Potter," Draco repeated smoothly, without the inclination this time.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Draco frowned before the realisation dawned. "Oh, Blaise told you I would not be making an appearance, did he? Well, how very interesting. Let's put ourselves aside for tonight, Potter, shall we? For our children and friends, in the least," he turned about and opened the door.

Reluctantly, after a heavy sigh, Harry followed him inside.

By the time Harry was being greeted by a reluctant Pansy, Draco was nowhere to be seen and Harry was happy for it. Ron, Hermione and Rose were there although the latter Weasley had gone off the moment she saw James and Scorpius. "Being so close with Malfoy's son is a little horrifying, don't you think?"

"Hm," Harry hummed in agreement, "It's a wonder what they'll get up to once they get to Hogwarts."

Ron blanched at the prospect. "Y-you don't think they'll get into the same house? Merlin, I can only imagine the letters we'll get from McGonagall," he groaned.

Hermione tutted at his side. "Ronald, Harry, can you honestly say you don't trust your own children?"

"It's  _because_  they're our children we don't trust them, 'Mione, think of all the school rules we broke in our first year!" Ron exclaimed.

They were interrupted by the host of the party, stepping in with a sluggish grin, they could smell a heavy whiskey wafting off of him. It was a fairly large home, the Zabini residence, however, it was rather crowded. It seemed Pansy really had invited everybody she could without hesitation in the hope of showing off her home. There were many old classmates and innumerable unrecognizable faces. Kids were strewn about, digging their hands into candy dishes and punch bowls, as adults conversed. They were still in the main foyer at the time, although it seemed that's where most of the activity was.

"Is my home befitting for Gryffindors?" he drawled, nudging Ron on the arm as he did.

"It really is a lovely home," Hermione complimented, forcing a dry smile. "Thank you very much for inviting myself and Ron."

Blaise waved his hand unimportantly. "There's a lovely parlour through those doors," he gestured at the end of the vast foyer to open double French doors, "Pans would kill me if I didn't suggest you visit it. I have to warn you, though," he leaned in, smirking, "They won't stop playing Celestina Warbeck in there – it's maddening."

Ron shivered at the thought whereas Hermione became excited by the prospect and grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him in the direction of the room to his reluctance. Before Harry could follow his friends, Blaise was laying his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. "I would like a word, Potter."

"Is it perhaps to tell me you lied and Draco really is here? Don't worry, I already saw him," Harry returned coolly.

The corners of Blaise's mouth twitched bemusedly and he began to lead Harry away from the foyer in the opposite direction of the parlour where others were converging. "I apologize for my deception but would you have come otherwise?"

"Why would you want me here anyway? I can't see why you would actually go to the lengths of lying to me to show off your new home," he reasoned.

Blaise had brought him up the staircase, where nobody seemed to be going, and several eyes followed them up their flight. Harry remained silent as he was led to what appeared to be a small study. Blaise offered him a seat on the Chesterfield as he took out his wand and approached his desk, waving it across the bottom left cabinet of it. Withdrawing from the desk, Blaise had retrieved two high ball glasses and a bottle of what appeared to be cognac. Harry raised his eyebrow at the liquor as his host took his seat across from him in a small armchair, pouring them drinks. Blaise settled in his chair, delicately holding his glass, his eyes trained on the liquid circling about inside of it.

They were silent for a few moments and Harry allowed them to rest in it. This, despite the odd company of a man he hardly ever knew, was preferable to the crowd downstairs, Celestina Warbeck music, as well as the possibility of running into Draco. Harry sniffed the cognac before sipping a little back. He cringed at first at the heat it created down his throat, the liquid stung all the way to his stomach where it rested creating a pooling warmth. "Not that I am unappreciative of the hospitality, you said you wished to have a word?"

"You know, Draco complained a lot about how informal you were, but you can be when you need to be. Tell me," Blaise leaned forward in his chair now, his elbows resting on the edge of its arms, "Did you act like that sometimes just to piss him off?"

Harry blinked a few times and cleared his throat. "No, I, er…I don't see how my…past relationship with Draco even concerns you, Zabini."

Blaise chuckled and fell back in his chair again. "There it is; he always described you as more of a blithering idiot. Always struggling for your words, always unsure of what you were doing. And for some reason that attracted him – I could never understand how or why and I still don't. Mind you, a Slytherin always remains composed, maybe he tired of the same old company and you provide, shall we say, an odd excitement for him. You are vastly different from his usual acquaintances and yet within your simplicity you always seem to manage to intrigue him. Something about your drive, if I can recall correctly," Blaise swirled the cognac about its glass, focusing on the way it sloshed around in a circular motion as he ignored Harry's indignation to his words.

"And the sex," Blaise continued. Harry had currently been taking a drink and spluttered at his words, choking on the liquor as his cheeks turned beet red. Blaise, however, appeared unfazed. "Do you want to know what happened with that fellow you met at the Ministry back in September?" he chuckled, shaking his head. "They were at Draco's place after the ceremony and one thing led to another. He left in the middle of intercourse, barged into our home at one in the morning, complaining about how mediocre he was. How  _pathetic_ he was and how much he wanted him to be you, Potter. You," he jabbed his finger at Harry, almost accusingly.

Without thought, Harry shakily tipped back the rest of the cognac and immediately regretted it as the strength of the liquor had him shivering, his jaw clenching. "Zabini, he wants nothing to do with me."

"Wrong. He wants everything to do with you and the only thing stopping him is the fact you forgot what it was to be a Gryffindor – where are those brass balls I remember that saved us from the war?" Blaise questioned levelly, finishing off his drink with more finesse than Harry. He stood and collected their glasses, placing them on his desk and sighing with his back to Harry. "Draco, as much of a prat as he is, is my best friend. That means I am constantly subjected to his incessant whining and pining over the likes of you. I still cannot comprehend his obsession with you but it boils down to this; he loves you, Potter, and now that he has had you he can't be happy without you, but he won't sacrifice his life to be with you. Do you understand?"

Harry frowned. The unfortunate part was that he did. He had already come to all of these conclusions though he was unaware of just how much Draco apparently missed him. Groaning, Harry cupped his head within his hands, teasing at the roots of his hair. "What the bloody hell am I supposed to do? He refuses to even speak to me let alone see me!"

"I can help with that," Blaise offered. "There is this place he has been frequenting rather out of the way, in hopes you could never find it."

"Why are you helping me?" Harry wondered aloud, looking over at Blaise who was now leaning on the back of his desk, his arms crossed and grinning coyly.

"Have you ever had Draco whine at you for weeks on end?" Harry inclined his head – he knew too well of the never-ending whine of that particular blond, it was just like a toddler throwing an elongated, poised temper tantrum. "Then you know exactly why I am trying to help – if only to save myself from bloody poisoning his butterbeer next time he comes over for a kip. I've no aspirations to end up in Azkaban, I rather like my life."

Harry found himself chuckling at Blaise. There was an odd air of lightness about him; how he had remained friends with Draco for so long was beyond Harry; then again, Draco seemed to acquire friends that were most unlike himself. In a different life, with alternate circumstances, Harry could see himself befriending Blaise. Before he could extend his thanks, there was a sound at the door which was now standing ajar.

The subject of their conversation was leaning against the doorframe, his one hand leaning on the handle, his other at his cocked hip. He was wearing an undiscernible expression on his face, his lips were pulled into a small, cold smirk. Harry recognized this look too well – Draco was trying not to yell. "Is there a purpose to the accosting of your guests, Blaise?" he drawled at last, breaking an uneasy silence.

Standing up from the Chesterfield, Harry began to walk towards Draco, perhaps the cognac was fuelling his courage. "He was telling me how much you've missed me," he boldly admitted.

Blaise sighed, coming up behind Harry who stopped a few feet from Draco. "You didn't have to take me down with you, mate," he mumbled to Harry and walked past them.

"Did you really think I could not tell what you were up to when Potter was specifically told I would not be here if he attended?" Draco returned.

Blaise shrugged, "You can deal with me later. For now, I think I'd best be off before Pans feeds me to that giant squid back at Hogwarts," he allowed himself out, stepping around Draco, forcing him to enter the room as the door closed softly behind him.

They regarded one another for a moment. Draco was still tense and unreadable, Harry was quite the opposite as his fists clenched at his sides. Gods, all Harry wanted to do was reach out and grab him, kiss him as if he hadn't in years despite it merely being a few months, and show him everything he couldn't convey eloquently enough with his words.

"I may miss what we had, Potter, but that does not mean I miss you. It is exceedingly tedious to date at my age in my circumstances. Do not be misled by whatever Blaise has told you, he can be truly misunderstanding at times," Draco drawled.

"Bollocks," Harry retorted. "You can try your best to hide your emotions from everybody else but don't you fucking dare hide them from me, Draco!" he shouted, advancing another step as Draco merely raised an eyebrow at his outburst. "You want nothing more than to yell at me right now. You want to scream. You want to hit me. You want to hex me. I can see it, how much you want to hurt me," he strained.

"Ah, the logic of a Gryffindor. Since I wish harm upon you I want to be with you? Come now, Potter, we are not eleven and I am not pulling your ponytails in order to get your attention," he teased dejectedly.

Harry growled frustratingly. "You want to hit me because you care. If I meant nothing to you, if you still wanted nothing to do with me, you would refuse to feel anything for me – you wouldn't be angry!" he was raising his voice now, despite his own reservations.

Draco pushed off of the doorframe and stepped forward, nearly closing the distance as he bore down at Harry, his face contorting with a displeased snarl. "You have always pissed me off, Potter," he protested.

"Exactly. I always have," Harry's voice dropped, he brought his hands to grasp Draco's upper arms, hoping to hold him there – it was the closest he had been to him in a long time and he was going to relish it. "That only means you've always cared, Draco. You can't fool me. You can't pretend to be okay with this anymore. You miss me."

A few ragged breaths shook Draco before he evened himself out once again, bringing his hands up to Harry's chest and pushing him gently backwards, releasing himself from his hold. "Let us forego my own charade, then. You are correct – I do miss you. Somewhere amidst the past eight months I have fallen in love with you. That is what you wanted to hear the night before you left me, is it not? That I love you? Well, I do, Harry. I love you and this is what it has given me," he raised his hands, palms upwards, and squared his shoulders. "I have never felt more betrayed, more hurt in my life. This is why I did not attempt to have any semblance of a relationship until I was sure it could result in only a positive change for myself and my son."

Harry frowned deeply. "And you saw that with me? You really thought that we-" he gestured between them and felt something heavy pressing on his chest. 'Gods, I really mucked it up,' he inwardly bemoaned. "Draco," he said softly, "I'm so sorry I ever doubted us. I shouldn't have. I was such a coward. Please, if you would only give me a chance, Draco."

Draco reached up as if to stroke the side of Harry's face but just before their skin touched his hand dropped and he turned on his heel, looking over his shoulder as he spoke, his eyes shadowed by his greying fringe. "I did, Harry. I gave you chances. I'm sorry, I really am, for both of us. This relationship could have been everything to both of us – and our sons," he whispered, "but I would rather be without you than hide with you."

As he walked away, Harry could do nothing else but watch him leave. 'You're committed, Harry,' he told himself. 'You want to be with Draco and James  _will_  understand. I need to have more faith in not only my son but my ability to be happy with Draco.' Resolutely, he started out of the study, and not after Draco who had already been lost in the throng of the crowd in the main foyer. Instead, Harry sought out Zabini, determined to put an end to both his and Draco's misery. When he found the host, he pulled him from his wife's side and demanded his assistance.

"Tell me where I can find Draco."

"Ah, there's that spotting Gryffindor courage we all adore!" Blaise bothered. "What has gotten you so dogged, Potter?"

Harry found himself grinning at the question. "When I arrived here tonight Draco asked me to put ourselves aside for one evening, but I can't. I never can and I never will be able to. When it comes to him, I can never simply put him aside."

* * *

 

Time had never moved so slowly. Minutes felt like hours, days began to feel like months. At long last the sun was setting on the following Thursday. Standing in his own kitchen, Harry smiled nervously at his son and then at his ex-wife, standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder supportively. "Go on, Potter, you'll be fine," she encouraged.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry nodded slowly. He would be fine. This was Draco and where Draco was concerned he wasn't going to give up until they were both fine. When it concerned the blond, even in school, Harry had never given up and the fact he had over the past few months was weighing down on him more than ever.

"Go on, Dad," James chimed in, grinning.

Rose was leaning in the doorway, hardly paying attention, as she dug her nails into a large mark in the wooden frame. "Come  _on,_ James, I thought we were going to play Gobstones!" she whined.

James laughed and hugged his father quickly around his waist, "You'll be alright, Dad."

Harry nodded, unable to find the words to respond. For such a young child he was so empathetic. The two kids left, clambering upstairs to James' room. With the children out of sight, Ginny pressed her lips briefly to Harry's cheek, startling him. "You're thinking too hard," she commented.

Sighing, he ran a shaking hand through his unruly hair. With Draco gone, it had taken a turn for the worse reverting to its unkempt days. "I know, but how can I not? What if he apparates as soon as he sees me? What if he isn't there? What if he says no?" he worried aloud under his breath, not wanting James to hear his insecurities more than he had already over the past few days.

Ginny chuckled, taking Harry's hand out of his hair and flattening the part of it he had disheveled. "He cannot apparate in a room full of Muggles, Harry, he of all people would not risk the fine. Zabini also went with him tonight to ensure he was there. Draco Malfoy say no to you? You can't be serious," she teased.

"He did already, just a few days ago at Halloween," he pointed out.

"That's when he didn't believe you would follow through on your offer. This is you following through. This is you giving him everything he wants. He would be a damned fool to say no and if he loves you even as little as you thought he did, there is no way he will not come with you," Ginny ensured, taking his hands and squeezing them hearteningly between her own. "Now get on, you're already late," she urged.

Harry nodded, forcing a smile. "Ta Gin, for everything," he squeezed her hands in response before letting go, taking a deep, staggering breath, and apparating to the coordinates Blaise had shown him the previous day. As he landed, steadying himself accordingly, Harry wrung his sweaty palms against each other before starting out of the darkened alley. The sun was still on its way to setting, creeping back towards the horizon as the light of the quarter moon illuminated the East London sidewalks.

It was a generally unfamiliar place and Harry was thankful Blaise had taken him there previously or else he would have been lost. Only a few moments after starting out, Harry came upon a café much like the one Mar ran in which they used to frequent. There was live music here as well, however, there was no smoke billowing out of the doors nor effervescent teenagers. Instead, the music was a soft jazz and the walls were lined with more traditional art than the contemporary style in Mar's café. Even from outside the window of the café, Harry could easily spot Draco's flaxen hair amidst the small evening crowd. He was at a round table near the back, his hand curled around a large bowl of a mug, his eyes boring into the dark wooden tabletop as Blaise waved his hands about in enthused conversation.

This café appeared a lot more like Draco's preferred taste – refined. And yet, it didn't seem right that he was sitting there with Blaise and not with him back at Mar's, laughing on with Nigel as they attempted to understand half of what that cockney bastard was saying.

Unnoticing of his own actions, Harry had begun to walk into the café, and before he knew it he was standing awkwardly at the table as Draco's piercing eyes drew up to meet his own. He found his nervousness slipping away as his lips melted into a soft smile. "What in fucking Salazar's name are  _you_  doing here, Potter?" Draco spat maliciously, his hand gripping tighter still on his cuppa.

The corner of his smile twitched as Blaise was quick to jump up from his seat. "Well then, I'll be off now that the main event has arrived!" he announced, shoving Harry down into his vacated seat.

Draco's eyes narrowed on his supposed best friend. "Zabini, you set this up? I swear I will-"

"Hex my bollocks to bits?" he supplied, smirking. "If you're still peeved at the end of the night, come over and have at me all you'd like, for now I suggest you lend an ear to Scarhead. Good luck, Potter," he slapped his back and quickly started off before Draco could grab a hold of him, no doubt to cause some degree of harm.

Harry remained silent for a moment, wanting desperately to reach across the table to run his hand across Draco's cheek in an attempt to soothe him but refraining from doing so. "Potter, could you just leave me alone? It has been months. One would think you would comprehend that I do not want anything to do with you anymore."

"Liar," Harry responded quickly, without the heated anger Draco was spewing at him.

Attempting to compose himself, Draco shifted in his seat for a moment, took a languid sip of his cuppa, and settled his pale grey eyes on Harry, genuinely surprised at the unruffled expression he saw there. "Pray tell why you're so calm for once."

"Because you said you did not want to hide with me," Harry said slowly, reaching into his trousers pocket and retrieving his wallet, much to Draco's confusion which he only displayed with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Well, I am fed up with hiding, too."

Draco laughed coldly, releasing his mug from his hand and crossing his arms as he settled against his seat. "Is this but the same hubris you counterfeited our last night together? If it is, please save us both the trouble."

Feeling his own anger rise at Draco's accusation, Harry hurriedly shoved his own emotions down; he couldn't get upset. Taking out a handle of notes from his pocket, Harry placed them on the table. "Have a tab?" he queried.

"Six pounds, eight pence," he returned slowly.

Leaving a ten pound note on the table, Harry stood and gestured for Draco to follow who did not move an inch when prompted. Sighing, Harry extended his hand. "I want to take the tube back to your place," he explained.

Once again, Draco found himself laughing in response. "For what, a shag? Blaise has clearly diluted your head more than it already was."

"No. For Scorpius."

The mention of Scorpius startled Draco and with his own misperception he was allowing Harry to lead him by hand out of the café. Once in the tube, Draco rounded on him. "Why not apparate? And my son is at his mother's so I have no idea what you are even playing at, I suggest you explain yourself."

Settling into seats beside one another, Harry was more distracted by the fact that Draco had yet to remove his hand from his own than he was concerned with his words. "I asked Astoria and Pansy a favour," Harry said, as if it explained himself fully. "I understand nothing I say will change your mind on not wanting to be with me anymore, so instead of saying something I am doing something. I'm not going to hide anymore, Draco, I don't want to. I can't live with myself hiding and being without you. Being with you is the closest to a fulfilled happiness I've ever come."

Draco tensed in his seat beside Harry, his jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes softly for a moment before sighing and submitting. "You have limited time, Potter, I will not waste my evening on a preconceived notion that you and Blaise have collaborated together."

Harry found himself smiling, despite Draco's obvious lack of confidence in his plans. "I only need a few moments," he promised.

They rode in silence, Draco's hand lax within Harry's which held his tightly, gripping as if it were sand slipping away between his fingers. He felt inexplicably overjoyed at the feeling of Draco so close to him, not yelling or drawing his wand on him. Gods, but all he wanted to do was kiss him, feel him flush against him once more, but he knew that would have to wait – he was confident that would come once they reached their final destination.

Upon arriving, Draco stilled a few yards from his front door, finally letting Harry's hand fall as he rounded on him in slight irate confusion. "You can see my house? Blaise?" he questioned.

Harry shrugged, smiling innocently. "Of course."

"What broom does he have in this race?" Draco muttered, turning back to leading the way into his home as Harry followed.

"From what I gathered, he wants you to be happy. Oh, and he did say something about poisoning you soon if you didn't quite whining," Harry teased, grinning as Draco shot him a withering glare.

As they stepped into the house, Harry was nearly overwhelmed by the sense of familiarity, two sets of footsteps immediately sounded in the floor above. "Daddy, is that you? Aunt Pansy said you had a surprise for me!" Scorpius called, clearly excited.

Draco turned to Harry accusingly but the brunet didn't offer an explanation as he shoved his hands in his pockets and diverted his attention to the eight year-old who came uncharacteristically barrelling down the stairs, running to embrace his father but coming to a full halt upon seeing Harry's presence. Pansy Zabini was looking levelly at Harry, clearly detaching herself from the situation.

"Scorpius, you remember Harry Potter," Draco gestured at Harry, hiding any semblance of emotion.

Scorpius nodded and stepped forward, offering his hand to Harry who shook his head as he loosely took the child's hand. "Your dad doesn't have a surprise for you," Harry admitted, quickly elaborating as Scorpius' face immediately fell. "I did. I wanted to know if you would be willing to come over to my house, to play with James and Rose. They're over there right now waiting for you. They said something about a package they received…" Harry alluded slowly to what he knew was a box Rose had somehow managed to conceal and take from her Uncle George's shop.

Immediately at its mention, Scorpius lit up as if it were Christmas and turned to his father. "This is why you called me away from mother? Can I go? Mr. Potter-"

"Harry," he corrected quickly.

"H-Harry," Scorpius said, unsurely, "May I stay with James and Rose tonight?"

"That was the plan. If it's alright with your father, James' mother was hoping to have all of you over for the evening at her home," Harry explained.

Scorpius turned back to his dad and despite his suppression, he could already read the way his stance tensed and eyes narrowed and what it meant. "You didn't know about this dad? You know I never like staying at mothers long, there's nothing to do there," he confessed, "So, is it alright?"

Draco turned to Harry and back to his son. "In a moment, I need to have a word with…" he trailed off, unknowing of what to call Harry at that moment as Mr. Potter felt too formal.

"I'll take him to clean up his room," Pansy offered, ushering Scorpius away and back up the stairs.

Once they were out of earshot, Draco rounded on Harry so quickly it startled him. At some point, Draco had withdrawn his wand and it was jabbing into Harry's abdomen as he attempted to be threatening, but Harry knew better than to be afraid of Draco's reaction. He hated not knowing what was happening. "What the hell are you playing at, Potter?" he hissed.

Harry put his hands up in defense and at the same time waved his right palm slightly, dispelling the wand from Draco's hand as it skittered across the floor. Draco narrowed his eyes and bunched his fists up in his clothes, shoving him against the door. Harry oddly relished the feeling as Draco pushed into him invasively. "No more hiding, I already told you that," Harry responded calmly. "I already explained our situation to James, Ginny and her family, Hermione, Ron and theirs, even mum and dad Weasley," Harry said. "The kids, James, Rose, and Scorpius especially, are the only ones who don't know who you are but they know what happened. More or less," Harry explained.

Draco's grip loosened and then tightened once more. "You better not be having me on," he growled defensively.

Sighing, Harry softly said, " _Pulsus_ ," pushing Draco back a few feet from himself as he straightened his clothes, which for the first time Draco noted was an outfit he had picked out back in the end of summer. "I'm not," Harry said earnestly, "I don't want to be without you anymore. I thought it would just take time, y'know, like any breakup does. But, with the more time that passed, the more I missed you and the more it hurt not being with you. Pathetic, I know," Harry mumbled, teasing himself as a tint of red reached his cheeks.

Suppressing the urge to smirk at the confession, Draco crossed his arms. "I can only truly believe this once I see it, Potter."

"I know. I understand, especially after what I did," Harry said hurriedly. "Your Floo is still cut off to mine, right? Can't be connected without a trip to the Ministry?" he asked, Draco nodding. "Well, I'll apparate over and gather everybody in the kitchen-"

"Not the kitchen," Draco said quickly, seriously.

Harry's lips twitched bemusedly. "Oh?" he questioned.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know why not."

"Fine. The living room, then. The wards are down, come when you're ready," and with that, Harry was about to apparate before Draco interrupted.

"You trust me to actually come?"

"Of course. You're too curious if I'll actually go through with it or not. Plus, you know you can't say no to Scorpius." With that and a resounding crack, Harry disappeared.

Draco sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he took a moment to collect himself before going upstairs to retrieve his son. He was waiting for him at the edge of his room, Pansy was holstering a small backpack to him to which Draco raised an inquiring brow at. "I knew you'd say yes. Potter is the only other person you can't say no to other than him," she gestured to Scorpius who was currently quiet, clearly concentrating on a confusing thought as his brow was knit together.

"Shove off, Pans," Draco muttered, bringing himself to one knee before his son, his hands weighing on his shoulders. "You can go. But you best behave. I don't want another incident like last time – turning Delilah pink for a week is in no way acceptable. Do you understand?"

Scorpius slowly nodded, ignoring the adults as Pansy bid Draco a curt goodbye as she disappeared into his study to Floo home. Once alone with his father who checked his bag to ensure it was properly packed, he finally spoke carefully. "Father, is Mr….is Harry that person you were seeing? The one Uncle Blaise said made you very mad?" Scorpius questioned.

Draco stilled before closing up the pack on his back. "Yes," he admitted, unwilling to lie any further to his son. "Is that okay?"

"Dad," he said, the informal address surprising Draco, "Did he hurt you?"

"Yes," he admitted again.

"Did he say he was sorry?"

"Yes, a lot," he confessed. "Scorpius, I don't expect you to understand-"

"I'm not a child, father," he cut him off, pouting and clearly offended. "I just want to know if…" Scorpius stopped himself and frowned. Draco was in front of him again on his knees, listening intently, carefully inspecting his son's expressions. "Mother never says she loves anybody other than me. She has a lot of friends. Male friends," he explained, causing Draco to tense. He already knew all of this and the thought of it always unsettled him. "I don't like that. I like Mr. Thomas and Mrs. Thomas. They always say they love each other when they think we're not listening. Like Uncle Blaise and Aunt Pans, they think I don't hear them but I hear them say it all the time," Scorpius finally met his father's eyes, his own round and grey with something that appeared akin to hope. "Were you…like that with Harry?" he asked.

Draco didn't know how to respond, he couldn't find the words to but slowly nodded without realising it. "Then you should forgive him," Scorpius resolved.

Standing up, Draco held out his hand to his son. "We will see, Scorpius…" he said softly, distantly.

Nodding, Scorpius took his hand and held his breath – it always helped with the uneasy, queasy feeling of Side-Along Apparation. They landed at the front door of Harry's and before Draco could even make a move, Scorpius was knocking excitedly at the door. Clearly all thoughts of the unknown relationship and of Harry and his father had left and been replaced with the eagerness of seeing his friends and this mysterious package which was earlier alluded to.

After a moment, Ginny Thomas answered the door. "Scorpius!" she greeted him happily and turned to Draco, her smile faltering only slightly. "Malfoy," she said, ushering them in.

"The kids and Harry are waiting for you in the living room," Ginny explained, "Scorpius, why don't you go along?"

Draco sighed as he turned to address his ex-lover's ex-wife as his son hurried off in the gestured direction of the living room. "What is it, Weaselette?" he queried with no tone of maliciousness at the nickname; they had been on rather friendly terms since their children took such a liking towards one another over the past few months.

"I just want you to go on easy on Harry, would you? You know how he is with these things…"

"What things?" Draco asked, feigning obliviousness.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Relationships. Speaking," she gestured flippantly, "He really loves you, Malfoy, Merlin knows why. So, could you just consider that while you're in there?"

Drawing his lips into a thin line, Draco nodded and without another word led the way to the living room, promptly ignoring the kitchen table which he passed – subduing the memories that came with the scenery. In the living room, silence met him upon his arrival, besides the crunching of a biscuit between Rose's teeth as she waited, appearing rather impatient, in a spot on the floor by the fireplace. James was sitting beside her, Scorpius across from them cross-legged, and it appeared that before Draco's arrival they had been in a heated discussion.

Harry was sitting in an armchair beside them but quickly stood once Draco and Ginny entered, habitually running a hand through his hair. Ginny resumed her seat on one side of the Chesterfield and Harry quickly gestured for Draco to take his spot in his armchair to which he quietly obeyed. Not willing to interject, Draco was mentally teetering on the edge of anticipation concerning how Harry was going to handle this, if he truly was going to do what he promised.

James' eyes were trained on Draco; not accusingly, nor confused, but calmly and calculatingly before he finally shot Draco a lopsided grin – one that matched James' father's grin to such a point it unnerved Draco. "Hello Rose, James," Draco inclined at last, but Rose hardly seemed interested in his presence. James, however, stood and came to the side of his armchair and awkwardly stuck out his hand.

"Er, Scorp said that I should do this when I wanted to say hullo to people…or thank them," James added in an afterthought.

Scorpius grinned at the back of his friend, shaking his head. Draco raised an eyebrow at his son before shaking James' hand, it was clear the kid wasn't used to such a gesture. "Which is it you're doing?" Draco questioned.

"Uh…" James paused, his hand falling as he flushed. "Both?"

Rose groaned from her seat, turning to look up painfully at Harry. "Uncle Harry, can you hurry up? Our…thing…will turn bad," she said carefully, as if her Aunt and Uncle were unaware of what sort of products she had stowed away with her things at Ginny and Dean's home.

"Right. Right," Harry began, clasping his hands together. Despite his resolve to speak, explaining the situation, he was at a loss for words now.

"Dad," James spoke up, "Scorpius' Dad that person you were seeing?" he asked.

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief, silently thanking Godric and Merlin wherever they were for James' interjection to the silence. "Er, yeah, yeah he is."

"See, I told you so," Scorpius said snootily, crossing his arms and turning his nose up.

"Can we go to Aunt Ginny's house now?" Rose whinnied.

Harry chuckled, "Ah, in a moment. I just want you to know, James, that Draco and I may see each other again and if we do it will be sort of like the way your mum and Dean are. Is that alright with you?" he asked, wanting to ensure his sons stability in the situation.

"I already told you whoever it is was fine, dad," James said, shrugging. "Plus, it's sorta cool that's he's Scorpius' dad…that means we can see each other more, right?"

Scorpius, obviously having not considered this, immediately grinned from ear-to-ear. "Brilliant!" Turning to his father, who remained silent and appeared stoic in his chair, Scorpius questioned him. "So, can you forgive him and can we go over to Mrs. Thomas' house now?"

Before he could respond, Ginny was laughing in her spot on the couch as everybody turned curiously towards her. "Kids. They're all so damn simple. I told you that you were overthinking it, Harry," she teased, winking at him as he blushed.

Harry turned to Draco hopefully. "See? I'm willing to stop hiding. Can you forgive me?" he reiterated Scorpius' question.

Draco took a moment to himself, quietly regarding the impatient individuals around him. Ginny, although still amused, clearly wanted to get home to her husband and other child – not excited at the prospect of three children rampaging through her home for the night. Rose was still impatiently waiting whereas Scorpius and James had the same distinct expressions of hope written across their faces. For whatever reason they had in their young minds they  _wanted_  Draco to forgive Harry; reasons he was sure they wouldn't divulge nor would he fully understand. And Draco turned to Harry at last, the most hopeful face of them all, standing awkwardly and nervously a few feet away from him, his emotions easy to read, his posture hideous as always, his hair so untidy all Draco wanted to do was spell it in place or make it worse than it already was all at once…slowly, a smile crept up his lips.

"Get on, then," he motioned towards the children, "I wouldn't want your  _things_  to go bad, whatever that means. Listen to Mrs. Thomas, understood Scorpius? And behave," he added for good measure, despite knowing full well that when the three of those children were together his words of discipline would mean very little.

Scorpius beamed and hugged his father goodnight, kissing him on the cheek, before following Ginny into the fireplace as she led them out like a line of restless school children. James bade his own father goodbye, grinning up at him, whispering something in his ear which made Harry smile a little bit brighter. Once the children and Ginny had left, Draco stood from the armchair and addressed Harry directly.

"What did James say to you?" he asked curiously, half expecting Harry not to tell him.

Harry turned a light crimson as he answered. "That he knew I would be happy and that he was happy I finally was, too."

"And are you?"

"If you're with me, definitely."

Draco arched a brow. "I never said I had forgiven you."

Harry laughed lightly. "That's true, but you do or else you wouldn't have sent the kids away."

"And what does their presence have to do with anything?" Draco countered, restraining the smirk that was fighting its way onto his face.

"I love you, Draco, you know that. And I know you love me, too…we don't need to sit around wasting time exchanging pleasantries. We're both grown men and I know exactly what it is you want the second you say you forgive me."

"Do you?" And Draco knew he did, by the way Harry's nervous demeanour suddenly slid away and how his eyes glinted in his direction, his tongue flicking out across his dry lips with anticipation.

"You couldn't get off with anybody since you left me-"

" _You_ left me," Draco corrected quickly.

Harry conceded. "Since I left you. How many times did you think about me when you…" instead of saying the words, his eyes flickered down to Draco's groin and back up again as he smirked.

Draco rolled his eyes, however, he enjoyed the thrill of the tremor that was sent through his body, revelling in the instantaneous arousal. Harry was advancing on him now, with purpose and confidence. He closed the distance between them but not with his lips. Instead, his hands gripped his upper arms, his pelvis met Draco's, and with the position of his body against his old lover's, he maneuvered him to the wall beside the fireplace and pressed himself up against him.

Rutting his pelvis against Draco's, Harry breathed into his neck, his lips ghosting the skin there before he brought his mouth to the shell of his ear. Draco dug his hands into Harry's hips now but otherwise he remained unmoving, fighting his own arousal – he didn't want it to be this easy but he couldn't help but react this way to Harry, it had been too long since he felt him. Harry licked his own lips which in turn made contact with a part of his ear causing Draco to shiver. It was now blatantly obvious to the both of them that his erection was growing, prodding Harry's own through their trousers.

"Do you forgive me?" Harry whispered into Draco's ear, grinding into him again.

Draco's breath hitched and he allowed his head to fall back against the wall. "Y-yes," he hissed. "But," he added, attempting to collect himself, his grip on Harry's hips tightening as he distanced themselves, "I want to make sure you are serious about this. Come with me to Diagon Alley this weekend,  _then_ I can be with you again when I am certain there is no way you can back out of this again."

Harry growled, clearly unamused, and as Draco was still putting distance between them he wordlessly performed a Tripping Jinx on him, forcing him to stumble onto the Chesterfield. Within a blinding second Draco was sitting and Harry was straddling him, his hands roaming up his clothed chest, into his hair, and back down again. "Let me make love to you, Draco," Harry begged breathily.

At the sound of his voice, Draco's cock twitched. Merlin, he wanted nothing more than to let Harry do that then and there. "Don't you trust me?" Harry continued. "I swear it, Marauder's promise, that I will take you to Diagon Alley tonight if you want me to…just let me have you, first. I can't wait any longer…" he groaned.

Draco had to suck in all the restraint he had to deny him. "Tonight? Cast a tempus," he demanded to which Harry did with quick ease and slight question. The time ghosted momentarily between them. It was half eight. "The Leaky?" he asked hurriedly, pushing Harry off of himself and adjusting his trousers.

Harry blinked, confused, before nodding in agreement. "I have a spare of your robes up stairs, if you want to change," Harry offered.

They quickly and in absolute silence hurried up the stairs and changed like children on Christmas morning scuttled towards their presents under the tree. They exchanged knowing, hungry glances until they were finished, ready to apparate to the alley behind the dingy, wizarding pub. "Is this some sort of test you need me to do?"

"In a way," Draco admitted. "What happened last time just cannot happen again because…" he sighed, "Because I know I would not be able to forgive you a second time for the same thing and I just cannot handle knowing that."

"I get it. I do. I'm really sorry, Draco, I never meant to hurt you the way I did…I was just so scared about James, mostly, and I feel like such an imbecile now that I know he doesn't even care," Harry acknowledged uneasily.

"Doesn't care?" Draco returned, reaching out and grabbing Harry by the hand. "He looked pretty bloody happy to me."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, he did, didn't he?"

"Come on," Draco said after a moment, pulling Harry in closer to him with their hands still entwined. "We have a public to shock."

"I really don't think they'll care that-" Harry's words were cut off as he felt the tug at his navel. Draco was Side-Along Apparating him and without the warning, Harry nearly lost his dinner upon feeling solid ground behind the doors to the Leaky Cauldron and the entrance to Diagon Alley. "Bloody hell," he swore, swallowing the churning acid in his stomach.

Draco shot an apologetic glance before leading the way inside the pub. "What's the plan?" Harry inquired once the ability to speak evenly returned to him.

"The plan? Well, I thought you could buy me a drink and then, if all goes well, I want to shag you into my bed so hard you forget what year it is," Draco silkily answered without hesitation.

Harry's breath caught in his throat at his words and he bit his lip, shaking the image of Draco doing just that from his head. "A drink. Right," he repeated to himself, hoping to distract his mind. When they entered into the crowd Harry was surprised to learn he wasn't even concerned with the immediate glances in their direction – he was too preoccupied imaging just how Draco was going to go about what he said he wanted to do.

They approached the barkeep, Tom, and ordered drinks which Harry paid for in full, all the while their digits were still wound about one another's. They could feel the inquiring eyes, hear the growing whispers, but not one person had approached them as of yet as they settled at a small table in the centre of the room – Draco's choosing, of course.

"Er," Harry began awkwardly as they settled in, jumping as he immediately felt Draco's foot on his calf, trying to swallow his blush. "Do you really think the kids will be alright?"

Draco sipped his wine and smiled assuredly. "Children are resilient. Besides, I have no intentions of leaving. Not like you did," he added seriously.

Harry sighed and immediately forgot that they were in public as he drank a fair amount of his butterbeer, leaned forward and swiped some of Draco's fringe behind his ear. "If you really do forgive me, you're going to have to actually forgive me, Draco. We won't get very far if you keep holding my mistakes over me like that."

Considering it for a moment, Draco agreed. "I know, this is all a bit much to believe, though. I really thought you would never want to actually be with me like this," he nudged his head to the small crowd of pub patrons around them.

"Of course I do, I always did…I was just nervous. I didn't want this to end and for it to hurt James, but then I realised – well, Gin made me realise – that it was ridiculous of me to even be thinking like that," Harry admitted. "You said you refused to be in a relationship unless you were certain it could work out. Well, I'm not going to be in any other relationship, either."

Draco smirked. "Took you long enough," he muttered into his glass, taking another gulp as his foot continued its mesmerizing, circular motions up Harry's leg under the table. "That question you asked me back at your house," Draco recalled, his voice dropping, "Countless time."

Harry shivered, his grip on his butterbeer tightening till his knuckles turned red. "Me too," he confessed quietly. "Do you have any idea how angry I was seeing you with that-that trout at the Ministry?"

" _Trout_?" Draco returned, laughing. "Yes, well, that was the intended purpose – it was not very considerate of me to do such a thing. I apologise for that, Harry, it felt all wrong with him," he said honestly.

"I know, Zabini told me," Harry shrugged. He wasn't about to hold Draco's previous actions over him.

"That rat bastard, is there anything that man can keep to himself?" Draco murmured, shaking his head.

"Considering the lack of little Zabinis running around, there is one thing," Harry countered causing Draco to laugh hard enough that Harry couldn't help but beam in response. He missed this, how easy it was to talk to Draco, how inexplicably happy it made him to just hear him laugh, see him smile.

"Mr. Potter?" Tom had come up to their table, a rarity seeing him not behind the recesses of the bar. Harry turned in his seat to greet Tom with an uneasy smile. "Would you and, uh, Mr. Malfoy like a top up?"

"No, thank you, Tom," Draco addressed him, standing up and reaching across the table for Harry's hand, pulling him to a stand. He was well aware of all the eyes trained on them and it was exactly what he had wanted. For now, there was no turning back from this, there was no chance Harry could runaway from the publicity of their relationship. "Harry,  _dear_ , pay the man, I'm tired and want to go home," he announced.

Tom flushed at all the implications of Draco's sentence and the fact their hands were clearly entwined together; any questions of those around them being answered. Harry fumbled with the galleons he had stashed into the pocket of his cloak and left a few extra for good measure before allowing himself to be pulled out of the Leaky Cauldron by hand.

As soon as they were out of eyesight, Draco shoved Harry up against the wall and forced his legs open, pushing himself in between them and grinding up against his pelvis. Harry's breath escaped him as he steadied himself, his hands on Draco's shoulders. Gods, it felt so good to be close to him again, for Draco to be openly yearning and wanting him, to be actively pursuing him. Draco's lips lowered to Harry's neck, sucking and licking at what he knew was a sensitive spot. Harry felt like he hadn't been touched in years as he shivered against his lover's body. "Merlin, can we fucking apparate, please?" he growled as he felt Draco purposefully grind into him again.

Draco chuckled, releasing Harry's neck from his lips. "Eager?"

"It has been  _months_ , Draco. Not a week, not four or five days, but two fucking months. I'm not sure how long I can last until I fuck you up against the wall right here and now," Harry disclosed hungrily.

"Oh, is that so? I am inclined to see to it that you will," he teased. "Fine, hold on," he complied, wrapping his arm around Harry's waist and apparating to his house, specifically into his bedroom.

Wasting no time, Draco began to strip his lover and himself of clothes until they were both naked and breathing heavily, their hands roaming one another, rememorizing every inch of their bodies. "Mm," Draco mumbled, removing himself momentarily from Harry's body to catch his breath. "Can I-"

"Yes. Please," Harry urged, bucking up into Draco who was hovering over top of him, his hands on either side of his head.

"No, just a moment," Draco rasped. "I need to say something," he said seriously, pulling himself off Harry and helping his blinking, dazed, and thoroughly aroused lover up with him.

Harry tried to keep his eyes trained on Draco's but they kept deceiving him, wandering down his body… "Harry," Draco said roughly, drawing his attention upwards.

Before Draco could speak his words, Harry smiled. He could see what he wanted to say in his eyes, he could feel it lingering between them. Reaching up, Harry cupped the back of Draco's neck with his hand, pulling Draco towards him. "I know," he whispered, bringing their lips together, chastely kissing him. "I love you, too," Harry said.

Draco kissed him again, this time letting his tongue feather out across Harry's lips, into his mouth, and back out again. He drew himself back and lingered on Harry's face for a moment before smiling earnestly. "I love you, Harry."

Harry smirked and closed the distance between them once more.

_Fin._


End file.
